


Arachnid

by syntheticvision



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Aunt May Better Watch Out, Caught in a Web (Literally), Dark Peter Parker, Death Threats, F/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Obsessive Behavior, Older reader, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Is Legal In This, Peter is a Little Shit, Protective Tony Stark, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spider-Drone, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26649505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticvision/pseuds/syntheticvision
Summary: Peter Parker has a big crush on Aunt's May co-worker.He's ready to keep her at any costs, even if she doesn't want him to.
Relationships: Peter Parker/MJ, Peter Parker/Reader, Tony Stark/Reader
Comments: 221
Kudos: 371





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wholeheartedly decided to just throw caution to the wind with this fic because it's a first for me writing Dark Peter Parker with a Reader who is not the usual age that is portrayed.
> 
> I don't quite know where we will go with this but expect it to be dark.

May tipped the bottle of wine into your glass, ignoring the quick shake of your head in protest.

“Oh no, no more,” you sputtered. “May, I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” she asked, emptying the last few drops inside your glass. “You earned it.”

You rolled your eyes with a sheepish smile, May pressing her back against her chair while she held up her wine glass toward you for a toast.

“To turning forty-five!”

“I think the whole complex heard you, May,” you muttered, lifting your glass in kind. The clink was quick, May taking a big gulp of her wine. You took a small sip and placed the glass back down, your fingers sliding over the wooden coaster.

Was forty-five really something to toast about? You had bemoaned your last year in your thirties, which now seemed like ages ago. You’d celebrated it with May that year, too. You didn’t have many friends. Most of them were married, had children or were a mix of both. Somewhere down the line you stopped wanting to feel like the third wheel on couple dates and being the fake aunt was nice when you were able to shop for their kids for birthdays and Christmas but otherwise, you were somewhere in the background. An invitation to parties and someone to add to their holiday greeting card list.

Still, you were lonely, even if you didn’t announce it to the world. You hated that your life felt like a never ending cycle. Weekdays were a blur and you dreaded the weekends most of all, two days of nothing but getting up the courage to try something new. You tried a spin class last month, surrounded by toned bodies clad in expensive workout gear. The instructor was friendly but by the time you climbed onto the bike and the class began, you felt so out of place that you made an excuse to use the restroom and never came back. Maybe this weekend you’d try your hand at one of those wine nights May was always inviting you to.

May was a true friend, one that you counted your blessings to have in your corner. Your job was mundane, but it paid well and the thought of dusting off your resume and interviewing made you fearful of trying something new. Perhaps in your forties, you were allowed to be comfortable. Every article you managed to get your hands on mentioned that these were the years that women finally felt at ease in their lives. Perhaps this was true. Maybe you just needed to make peace with yourself.

“It’s past my bedtime,” you pointed out, watching May take another long sip.

“Relax, will you? You’re forty-five, not eighty-five. Besides,” May said with a small chuckle, getting up from the table. “I have a surprise for you.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, humming happy birthday to herself. You’d always loved her place. May had impeccable taste. She’d even helped you redecorate when your last relationship had ended, breathing new life into the space that you had figured would always stay the same, forever locked in time with dead houseplants and tons of self-improvement books that still had the price tag sticker on them.

“Surprise!”

May placed a slice of tiramisu with a lit candle on top in front of you.

“From Luca’s,” May informed you, taking residence back in her chair, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder. “Your favorite, right?”

It was, indeed. Soft chocolate curls laid atop the dessert; thick mascarpone cheese sandwiched between the espresso-soaked ladyfingers. The smell alone made your mouth water, your mind immediately counting up how many calories you would be consuming in a single bite.

“Stop thinking about calories and just indulge. Make a wish,” May ordered with a tilt of her wine glass.

You let out a small breath, the candle flickering.

“Aunt May! I’m home!” a loud voice announced before the door slammed.

Peter rounded the corner, slowing to a stop. Peter seemed to have grown even taller since the last time you’d seen him. Plucking the air pods out of his ears, he shrugged out of his coat and turned, a look of surprise on his face.

“Oh, hey,” Peter greeted, his attention turning toward you. “Aunt May didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

He glanced down at the candle, giving you a wide smile.

“Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling your face get hot with embarrassment. Now you had two people waiting for you to blow out the candle. You’d get it over with and then you could focus on the dessert in front of you.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you sucked in a short breath and blew, the light blown out as a string of smoke lifted into the air. May and Peter gave a polite clap and you tried to smile, ignoring the weird feeling that had come over you. Why in the world did you feel like crying? Maybe it was because the blow of the candle felt like saying goodbye to another year past? Forcing yourself to think of happier things, you flashed a grateful smile.

Plucking the candle from your dessert, you picked up the fork while Peter disappeared into his room. May watched his closed door for a moment before she turned back around.

“All he does is work these days. After graduation, it’s been all about that internship with Stark Industries. I wish he’d take a break,” May confessed to you. “He comes home only to wash his clothes and then he leaves again.”

“Empty nest syndrome?” you teased, the corners of her mouth moving into a smile.

“Maybe so. I just worry about him, you know? He never has time for anything these days. Not even a lunch date. He’s stood me up twice. His own flesh and blood.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you tried to soothe. “Stark Industries is a behemoth. Maybe his workload will get better in a few weeks.”

You took a bite of your tiramisu, eyes closing in bliss while you chewed slowly.

“Amazing, right?” May asked, finishing the last of her wine. “Let’s open up another bottle, shall we?”

“You go on ahead,” you urged, taking another bite. “I shouldn’t even be eating this, let alone having another glass of wine.”

“Just relax, will you? Another year older isn’t a death sentence.”

“I’d agree,” Peter chimed in from somewhere in the kitchen.

“No eavesdropping!” May chastised.

You glanced down at your watch, looking at the time. It was late but you still had enough time to dye your hair, self-conscious of the stray gray hairs that had crowned your head in the past few weeks. Looking down at the plate, you realized you had finished your dessert.

The wine in your system made your face warm, your legs slowly pushing back away from the table. The sound of utensils clattered into the sink.

“The tiramisu was amazing and so was the wine. But I should be heading home.”

May squinted at the clock on the DVR box.

“Why don’t you spend the night? It’s a little late for you to be going home. You could take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch,” she offered.

“I can’t let you do that,” you denied, lifting yourself from the chair slowly. “I can walk home.”

Peter stuck his head out from the kitchen, sandwich in hand.

“I can walk you home,” Peter suggested.

Oh, no. You couldn’t let him walk you home. It was only a few blocks away and the last thing you needed was to walk in what you were sure was going to be awkward silence or bland small talk.

“I appreciate that, Peter but I can walk home. I’m a big girl, I promise. I have my pepper spray if I need it.”

Peter stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth, wiping his hands on his jeans. After swallowing the last of it, he grabbed his coat.

“Yeah, that’s not exactly convincing. Don’t worry about it, I’ll walk you home.”

“Thanks Peter,” May replied, a look of relief on her face.

Grabbing your purse and hauling it over your shoulder, you attempted to take your plate and glass to the sink but May slapped your hands.

“I got it. Paint and wine night on Saturday. Please come?”

Your shoulders dropped in defeat at her sad pout.

“Okay, okay,” you relented. “I’ll be there.”

Peter opened the door for you while you walked out into the hallway. Struggling with your coat, a pair of hands held out the coat for you, your arms slipping inside.

“Thanks,” you answered, still feeling slightly embarrassed at needing the help.

“Don’t mention it,” Peter answered. “I like to help.”

The elevator ride down was quiet, the doors clicking ever so often until you reached the ground floor.

“Peter,” you started, pushing open the door as the frigid air bit through your coat. “You really don’t have to walk me home. I know how to get there.”

“We’re walking,” he urged you, his body almost up against yours as he herded you to the sidewalk. “It’s not a big deal, trust me.”

Both of you walked along the dark streets, the streetlights above you while Peter surveyed ahead of you, his attention turning back to you.

“Sorry, force of habit. Been working at Mr. Stark’s lab late so I’m always on high alert. Can’t trust people, you know? I mean, you can trust me,” he corrected himself.

“I do,” you responded, shivering slightly while you jammed your cold hands into your coat pockets.

“Cold?” Peter asked, his elbow bumping into yours.

“A little bit. A few more blocks. I can handle it.”

Heavy material draped over your shoulders; Peter’s bare arms visible while he adjusted his jacket over you.

“I’m fine,” you protested, though you immediately felt the warmth of the extra jacket. “Thank you.”

“I hope you had a good birthday.”

Rounding the corner, you nodded in response. You really didn’t want to talk about your birthday. That would lead to more questions and right now, your legs were freezing in the thin material of your work pants and all you wanted to do was get home safe.

“That’s good. I wish Aunt May would have said something, I could have gotten you a present.”

“That’s sweet. But I’m okay. Really.”

He raised an eyebrow at your comment, his lips formed into a frown at your dismissal.

“Maybe I’ll get you one anyway.”

You decided it was best to not protest any further. Chalking it up to him being nice, you figured he would forget about this conversation once he left you and it would not be brought up again.

“You know, I agreed with Aunt May earlier. Getting older isn’t a death sentence,” he started.

You stifled back a groan of irritation. The last thing you wanted was to talk about your age with a nineteen-year-old, who was old enough to be your son.

“Hmm,” you finally replied.

“I think you’re beautiful. I always have.” Peter looked down at the ground as he delivered his praise.

“Oh… thank you.” You were unsure how to reply, the compliment making you blush.

“You’re welcome. I feel like I should have said that earlier. You’re special. I hope you know that.”

At that, you didn’t respond. Peter crossed the street, still at your side while he chewed on his lip.

“I made you uncomfortable, didn’t I?

“I’m not used to compliments, that’s all.”

You looked up, your apartment complex in view. A sigh of relief left your lips.

“Not used to compliments? You’re gorgeous, how can you not see that? I used to visit Aunt May’s office just to see if you were there.”

You fished for your keys in your purse, keeping your head down while you focused on searching for them. At his comment, your thoughts went to all of the times he visited the office.

“That’s very kind of you Peter but I’m double your age and then some. Thank you for walking me home,” you thanked him, aware of the intense gaze and polite smile on his face.

“Don’t mention it. It was my pleasure. I forgot how quick it is to get your place. Easy walk.”

An awkward silence hung in between you before you climbed up a step. For some reason, your heart was beating a little harder than you were used to, nervousness biting at your senses.

“Goodnight Peter,” you said, looking over your shoulder at him. “Thanks again.”

“Wait,” Peter protested, heading up the steps. “One more thing.”

He enveloped you in a hug, his arms strong and tight as he drew you against him. His lips hovered near your ear, the warmth of his breath tickling your earlobe.

“Don’t ever mention my age again,” he warned, his voice like a caress before he pulled away, patting your arms. “Keep the jacket. Have a good night. I'll see you soon.”

He descended down the steps, not looking back while he continued down the street. It was only then that it occurred to you that he had mentioned he’d been to your place before.


	2. Chapter 2

The faint sound of the doorbell got your attention while you rinsed the shampoo out of your hair, the last faint streaks of the hair dye you had applied circling down the drain. Whatever or whoever it was, it could wait, you had decided. The memory of the night past still haunted you, Peter’s warning still in your thoughts.

You’d chalked it up to him being a teenager, still on the cusp of fully embracing adulthood, surmising that maybe that was what he thought women had wanted to hear – piling on compliments and being sensitive about his age. Laughable that he would be delicate about such a topic, especially that one you struggled with.

As you often did, you opened the towel to gaze at your body in the mirror, resisting the urge to pick yourself apart. You examined the skin on your arms, frowning slightly at the slight texture change before you slathered on the collagen boosting lotion. Still, even as you bemoaned the little extra weight on your hips and stomach, you were beginning to embrace the person you saw in the mirror.

After finishing your steps of your skincare routine and blow drying your hair, you pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, padding to the front door and spying a brown box on your welcome mat. When you opened the door, you looked around to find the hallway empty before you took the box inside. It was lightweight, unmarked and small enough for you to wonder what it was.

Opening it slowly with a box cutter, you sliced through the heavy packing tape and pulled open the box slowly, rifling through the pink tissue paper to pull out a black lace bra and matching underwear. You dropped the lingerie back onto the box, taking a step back as if it burned you.

Your heart sped up while you lifted the bra, inspecting the tags on the lingerie. It was your exact bra and underwear size.

Peter.

Shaking your head, you shoved the lingerie back in the box, leaning against the kitchen counter while you tried to digest what you had just received. Maybe you were jumping to conclusions. Maybe it wasn’t Peter who had decided to gift you with a lingerie set.

But there was no one else who would know your measurements, let alone that most of your undergarments were black except yourself. You pushed the box away from you, heading to your dresser to yank out the drawers and inspect your top drawer.

Nothing was out of place, everything still folded and immaculate.

You forced yourself to calm down. There was probably a reasonable explanation. It had most likely been a good guess, you decided. As far as bra sizes, you were in the national average. In the back of your mind, you kept trying to talk yourself out of the fact that he had bought them, even if you had no other person to suspect.

The sound of your phone ringing shook you out of your thoughts, May’s number showcased on the screen.

“Hey May,” you answered, closing your drawer slowly.

“Hey! I wanted to see if we were still on for paint and wine night tonight?”

“Oh. Uh, sure,” you responded. “What time?”

“Seven sound okay?”

“Seven sounds perfect.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at six. See you then!”

Tossing your phone on the bed, you busied yourself with making the bed and tossing in a load of laundry. Anything to keep your mind off the box.

🕷

“Everything okay?” May’s hand planted on your shoulder and you jumped at the touch.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, picking up your wine glass and taking a long sip. “I don’t know what’s going on with me today.”

“You seem a little jumpy. Don’t worry, once the wine gets into your system, you’ll be blissed out enough to create a masterpiece.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.” The canvas was placed in front of you, the paintbrushes ready to be dipped in the small pots of paint.

While in the car, you tried to gather up enough to courage to speak to May about how Peter had acted. It sounded silly when you tried to rehearse it in your head. How would she react that Peter complimented you, gave you his jacket when you were cold and told you that he didn’t want you to bring up his age? May was a modern woman, she’d dated older and younger men and didn’t seem to bat an eye. You wondered what she would think if she knew that Peter came to visit the office to see if he could find you there instead.

Deciding against it, you were quiet on the drive over, letting May do most of the talking while you slumped in your seat, unsure of how you could even talk to her about the lingerie that you had found on your doorstep. You couldn’t prove it was Peter, it was simply a feeling, putting two and two together.

May started to paint, her paintbrush gliding over the canvas while you watched.

“How’s MJ?” you asked, dipping your brush into a pot of dark brown paint.

“Oh, you know how those two are. Broken up one minute, together the next. Peter doesn’t seem to know what he wants lately. I know MJ has been trying to get him to take a break with work and his internship. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. Why do you ask?”

May adjusted her glasses on her nose while she continued to swirl big green loops, which you decided were part of a tree.

“No reason. Just hadn’t seen her around,” you managed to lie, hoping he was still with her.

“If you ask me, I don’t know if Peter is interested anymore. She’s a beautiful girl. Smart, hardworking, big heart. Maybe they’re growing apart. Maybe she’s not interested anymore. I never know. I get the feeling he has someone else on his mind.”

Keeping your sense of calm, you continued to paint, sipping your wine while May dipped her brush in water, patted it dry and then selected another color.

“I can’t explain it, but he’s been so secretive. It’s not like him to be that way. He did the same thing with MJ, not wanting to tell me anything until the last minute. Kids these days,” May continued with a shake of her head. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough, whoever she is.”

“I hope so,” you answered.

When you finished your glass of wine, another one appeared. You were surprised that the small strokes of paint were starting to turn into something that actually resembled art. Not the best but you were happy with how it was forming and it took your mind off of Peter, even for a little bit of time.

“What about you?” May asked, squinting at her canvas before she selected another color. “Anyone new in your life?”

You laughed at her question.

“No. Not at all.”

“Why not?”

You blew out a breath, finishing the rest of your wine.

“Because… I don’t know. I’ve been busy with work and the weekends fly by so fast that I don’t have the time.”

“Sure,” May agreed, watching another glass of wine be placed next to you. “I’m not saying you have to share your life with someone for the rest of your life but a few dates here and there sound fun, right?”

If you were being honest, it didn’t seem like fun. Not for you, at least. Gone were the days where you fussed over your appearance to try to impress someone. Hair, makeup, new clothes and then there was the dating game of trying to find something in common and meeting strangers that took up more time than you were willing to part with.

Not to mention that you were aware that when you showed up to dates that every inch of you was scrutinized, even with the best intentions. The small laugh lines that had begun to appear made you self-conscious, even though it was a perfectly beautiful response to living another year on this planet. It meant, at least to you, that you had actually laughed in your lifetime and you had the marks to prove it. You just hoped that the person at the other end of the table saw it the same way you did.

“One day,” you relented. “When I can find the time.”

🕷

Positive that you were drunk, you placed down your empty wine glass, peering at your masterpiece while May gave you a thumbs up.

“Who knew you’d be a better painter than me?”

“I didn’t,” you answered, blushing at your slurred words. “I think I need water.”

“I’ll get you some,” May promised, getting up from her seat and disappearing.

Your face was warm, the paintbrush dropping to the floor with a small ping against the ground. You leaned down a little too fast to pick it up, your head spinning. You couldn’t remember how many glasses you’d actually drank. Three? Four? You hoped it was just four and even then that was past your limit.

May handed you a cold bottle of water and you twisted off the cap, gulping it down quickly while she helped you up.

“I’m so sorry, May,” you apologized with a sheepish smile. “I never get drunk.”

“I know,” May teased, ribbing you in the side with her elbow. “It’s great. You’re finally relaxed and we did something fun. Let’s get you home.”

Once you made it into the passenger seat and pulled on your seatbelt, you leaned your head against the headrest and closed your eyes, May loading up your paintings in the backseat as the interior light was bright above you.

You gave a sigh of relief when she sat in the driver’s seat and closed the door, enveloping the car in darkness.

“We’ll be home before you know it,” she promised you as you closed your eyes.

Truthfully, you didn’t open your eyes until you were halfway up the steps, May’s arm looped around you while you heard the key in the door.

“May,” you whispered sleepily. “I can get to the bed.”

“Are you sure?” she responded, your eyes opening enough to reach out to hold onto the counter.

“Sure. I’ll lock the door.” You were aware you were still slurring your words but at least you could somewhat stand.

With a careful look, she slipped out the door and you stumbled to make sure you locked it behind her, checking it twice with one open eye before you made it to your bedroom and fell onto your back, closing your eyes and not caring that you were still fully clothed.

🕷

You felt your head moving side to side, almost as if you were fighting in a dream, the pressure between your legs building. It felt good, your breath halting in your throat. It was dark when you slowly opened your eyes at half mast, your hips pushing into something warm and wet against your cunt. It felt like a hallucination, slow and steady, whatever this was between your legs that lapped at the bundle of nerves. Your hands drifted down past your shirt and into a thick patch of hair, your fingers sliding through softness while your brain tried to make the connection.

Struggling to lift your head, it felt heavier than normal and you sunk back into the pillow, tears pricking at your eyes as the pressure grew. Slowly you came to your senses, realizing that it was a head between your legs, connected to a body that had pinned down your legs while you tried to move. Another lap of a wet tongue between your legs roused you from your stupor.

“What…” you tried to speak, your lips dry and chapped.

“Go back to sleep,” you heard a voice respond, familiar and low. “I’ve got you.”

You knew that voice and you raised your head, seeing the dark hair and recognizable face before your head dipped down into the pillow and you were lost again in a sea of darkness, falling asleep as your hands slipped to your sides.

🕷

The alarm clock next to your bed bleated out loudly and you shook from the sound, popping up to silence it. It was only Sunday, too early for you to be up but the surprise of the alarm had stolen away your sleep and you looked around, trying to recall the events of the night prior.

You had been drinking. There had been painting. You remembered that.

You tossed off the covers and noticed you were clad in a bra and underwear, popping out of bed when you realized that it was the same lingerie from the box. You didn’t remember putting it on, let alone changing your clothes last night.

Your fingers trailed down to the juncture of your thighs and you winced at the sensation of your sore clit, the memory of the night still trying to come together. You had thought you were in a dream, drifting off into space. You’d felt it, the pressure that had built and bloomed between your thighs and at your stomach.

Your hand covered your mouth as you remembered the face as you sat at the end of the bed.

There was no mistaking who had been in your room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments have been wonderful, have another chapter.

“Everything okay?”

Your eyes burned as you blinked, swiveling around in your chair to face May, whose lips were pursed into a worried frown.

“I’m okay,” you replied, trying to manage a smile to redirect her from picking up on your nervousness. “Been a long day and it’s barely noon.”

“Tell me about it. Have you had lunch yet?”

You hadn’t but the last thing you wanted to do was be alone with May and have your thoughts invaded by Peter. You definitely didn’t want to tell her a thing until you knew for certain that it had been him, even though you had zero proof that he had been inside your apartment.

All you had been thinking about was how he managed to get inside your place, let alone putting you into the lingerie that you had found yourself in.

“No, not yet. I think I’m just going to work through my lunch break and take off a little early.”

May draped her arm over your cubicle, her eyes searching your face for a moment. You knew she was concerned, unable to find the right words. She’d never been good at the emotional side of things, not since her brother had passed, leaving her as the sole caretaker of Peter.

“Are you sure everything’s okay? You seem out of it.”

“I feel a little hungover, still,” you lied, May’s lips forming into a smirk.

“Ah, so that’s what it is. You’ve never been able to hang. I guess that’s the last time we do paint and wine night.”

“At least for a little while,” you agreed, stretching your neck from side to side to ease the ache from how long you had been at the computer.

“Am I interrupting something?” a voice asked, breaking the conversation.

A man peeked his head into your office space, eyebrows raising in surprise in your direction. You recognized the goatee, the serious chocolate brown eyes and the handsome face that broke into a smile.

Tony Stark.

“Tony, this is my friend,” May stammered, aware of Tony’s expression as he stared at you. She introduced you by name, her eyes catching yours as she gave you a small wink.

“It’s a pleasure,” Tony greeted you in a near purr. “May didn’t tell me she had such gorgeous friends around here.”

May let out a groan while she rolled her eyes.

“Tony’s here because he’s one of our biggest donors. Sometimes he likes to be anonymous. Other times, he likes to make it known. Like today.”

He extended his hand to you and you reached out slowly, his lips brushing against the top of your hand as he took it. Hiding the blush that bloomed over your cheeks and warmed your face seemed impossible and you focused on the almost fifteen-thousand-dollar watch that he had on his wrist so that you did not give yourself away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“That makes me sound so patrician. Well, maybe I am but Tony works just fine. I’m sure May told you all about me.”

“She actually didn’t,” you replied.

“I could introduce myself. Say, over dinner?”

You held back a cough of surprise, trying to withhold the stutter as your lips moved silently while you tried to find your voice.

“Dinner?”

Maybe he was trying to be nice, you surmised. It wasn’t every day that Tony Stark asked women on dates.

Or maybe he did. You were almost sure that he did. You just hadn’t expected it to be you.

May stood behind him, still waggling her eyebrows at you.

“What, a beautiful woman like you not eat?” Tony asked, giving you a sly wink. “You tell me where and I’m there. Or, I could surprise you. I love surprises.”

“Surprises are nice,” you decided.

You weren’t sure why you were so quick to answer. It had been years since you had been on a date, let alone one with Tony Stark, the millionaire playboy philanthropist himself. You chalked it up to trying something new.

“I like to think so,” he responded. “I’ll give you a call. May, always good to see you. Tell Peter if he’s late again, I’m cutting him loose.”

In what seemed like a flash, he was gone, leaving May to hover around you.

“Did that just happen?” she asked you, her face filled with disbelief. “He totally asked you out. And you said yes.”

“Force of habit.”

“You have to go now! I haven’t heard of anyone standing him up on a date.”

Letting out a sigh of annoyance, you turned back to your computer.

“Like I have the time to date, let alone someone like Tony Stark,” you muttered. “It was niceties at best.”

May let out an inelegant snort.

“Totally. We’ll see.”

🕷

You trudged up to your door, brown bags packed full of groceries as you shuffled them around to check for your keys in your pocket.

“Need help?”

You nearly dropped the bags onto the ground at the sound of Peter’s voice.

“I’m fine,” you answered curtly, pulling your set of keys from your pocket.

Peter was at the end of the hallway, his gaze on you intensely focused while he waited for you to respond. 

“Peter,” you acknowledged, fumbling with the key as you stuck it into the lock. “I can manage, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

You heard his footsteps getting closer, your body shivering involuntarily at the fact he was heading your way. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle and yet, you felt afraid.

“Really, I’m fine,” you protested, the bags being lifted from your arms into his own.

“Let me help you,” he countered, waiting for you to open the door.

A sense of dread took hold over you and you pushed open the door, walking inside while he followed behind, the bags crinkling with every step.

Peter placed the bags on the counter while you left the door slightly ajar.

Just in case.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, unsure of what to say.

“Aunt May told me you have a date.”

It almost sounded cheerful, as if he was commenting about the weather. Yet, you picked up on a small hint of what you swore was irritation that had glimmered in his eyes that were focused at you.

“Maybe,” you replied, watching him unload the groceries from your bags and place them into the refrigerator.

It was unnerving, watching him move about the kitchen and into the cabinets while he put your items away.   
  
Too familiar.

He jammed the mustard into the middle shelf of the fridge, closing the door of the fridge so hard that it rattled.

“Are you sure you want to go on a date with Mr. Stark?” His question was soft, full of curiosity.

There was no real answer for him. You certainly didn’t think it was any of his business to ask a personal question, let alone one about your dating habits. His eyes lowered to the floor.

“I’m giving it some thought,” you replied honestly.

Peter nodded, shoving the loaf of bread inside the cabinet of the pantry.

“You’re a grown woman, I guess.”

Peter folded the brown paper bag into portions, stuffing it against the side of the cabinet, where you always left them.

How he had known that was where you had placed them, you were unsure. The thought did not give you any comfort.

“Mr. Stark definitely loves the ladies. If you ask me, sometimes a little too much. You sure you want to subject yourself to that?”

You kept your mouth shut, looking at his dark hair. Your fingers had slipped through his curled locks the night prior, your body on the brink of coming undone. It didn’t help that you wanted to confront him, make him admit that he had been in your room.

Nothing made sense anymore.

“What were you doing in the hallway?” You asked, not caring at the look of surprise on his face.

“Mr. Callahan asked me to help him hang some pictures,” Peter said innocently, his expression contrite. “We finished early, I was just about to head back home when I saw you.”

“I see.” 

There was really nothing more to say. You felt crazy, wanting to ask him if he had been inside your room.

Maybe your mind was really playing tricks on you.

Still, watching him move around your kitchen to put things away was enough to make you speak up.

“Were you in my room last night?” You blurted out, past the point of caring about politeness. You needed to know.

“What are you talking about?” Peter’s voice was filled with surprise.

“Someone was in my room last night.”

Peter’s face twisted into one of shock, his bewilderment apparent in his voice and expression. His fingers gripped the counter.

“Who?” he asked, his voice full of concern as he leaned in toward you. “Who came?”

“Someone. I didn’t get his name,” you answered, surprised at the look of concern that had now taken over his features.

“Did you call the police? That’s a big deal.”

You shook your head. It wasn’t as if you had thought about it. But you knew that your version would largely differ the story that the police would write about.

“No,” you admitted, suddenly questioning to yourself why you hadn’t. “I didn’t think they’d listen. I don’t have proof that anyone was actually here.”

Peter finished putting away the last of the items before he turned to you.

“Maybe they’d think you were crazy.”

His answer did not remove your hunch that it was him. He circled the kitchen, putting away the last of the brown bags before he leaned on his forearms, earthy brown eyes sweeping from the top of your head to your toes. The sad smile he offered only made you feel worse.

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But I know someone was there.”

He checked his watch, shaking his head while he read a message.

“I gotta go. Mr. Stark needs me.”

You were careful to not let out a sigh of victory, instead keeping quiet.

“See you,” Peter said, frowning at the text on his watch. "I'd rethink the date with Stark. Definitely doesn't seem like your type."

No one moved as quickly as you did to open the door wider for him, waiting for the moment he left so that you could breathe again.

He passed through the doorway, spinning on his heels to point his index fingers at you like two fleshy triggers.

“Oh! I forgot to ask. Did you like your gift?”

You stopped in your tracks, the door halfway closed before you hesitated.

“What gift?”

Peter laughed; a sound that made your spine grow cold, a shiver going down your back.

“Your lingerie, silly.”


	4. Chapter 4

The white bag hung over the door, your attention focused on the black, slinky dress inside it while beads of water ran down your legs. It had cost more money than you had thought about spending, including the proper undergarments to fit into such a dress. With less than two hours to go, there was no excuse you could make to not go on this date that you had thought that Stark would have forgotten about. Instead, he’d had his assistant call you while you were barely off the treadmill, the infamous Pepper Potts speaking in a professional but clipped tone when she confirmed that he would be picking you up promptly at eight.

Frustration heated your face while you tugged the shape slimmer over your thighs and hips, bemoaning the tightness and the little weight you’d put on over the years. Swallowing down the wave of self-consciousness that threatened to spill over, you tore open the plastic of the dress and let it fall to the floor. You’d taken a chance on a sleeveless dress, still not a fan of your arms but you’d shopped around enough to know that anything with sleeves had made you look matronly. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you gave yourself a pep talk, half dressed but ready to get the night over with.

It took longer than normal to finish your hair, balancing your phone on the bathroom counter to look at the YouTube video on this cat eye eyeliner that you’d saved months prior, applying it with shaky fingers and swiping it off at least four times with a makeup wipe before you got the result you were going for.

The dress you slipped down your body went down easier than you expected, turning your body to see your body hugging dress doing its job. It had been a week since Peter had shown up at your place, revealing that he’d bought you the lingerie that was currently sitting inside the box it had arrived in. You still hadn’t gotten the courage to tell May, let alone find the right time to tell her. The day after his revelation, May had come into work, rushing over to tell you about Peter meeting Captain America himself, scrolling through the pictures of Peter and Steve Rogers that Peter had sent her. Everything had been quiet since he’d left your apartment and you had been able to rest, no longer checking the front door for any packages that could have found their way to your door.

You downed the last two sips of the champagne you’d poured earlier to calm your nerves, enough to make you relaxed while you adjusted your bra to show a little more cleavage. It had been too long since you’d gotten dressed up – especially to this degree – and the person staring back at you was confident, powerful and beautiful. The person that you are day to day is still the same person, sans smoky eye and thousand dollar dress with even more expensive black pumps. You tended to forget that you were so much more than just a number.

By the time you were alerted by Happy that the car had arrived, you were ready to go, giving yourself another once over before the door was locked. You learned through the Cosmopolitan magazines that you’d subscribed to for years to lift your head high, almost a saunter in your step once your pumps reached the concrete.

Your confidence takes a small dip at the sleek black car that is waiting for you, Happy holding open the door for you. There’s a small bit of a thrill to watch his eyes gaze up and down for but a brief moment before you bowed your head to enter the car.

A low whistle greeted you as you brushed your hair out of your eyes. Tony held out a flute of champagne to you as the door closed.

“Who would have known a body like that was hidden under that sensible pants suit,” Tony remarked, your glasses clinking together before he downed his in one sitting.

Even in the dark car, Tony’s professionally tanned skin and his bespoke suit spoke volumes. You took small sips of your champagne, too nervous to finish it all as the weight of glass stayed inside your enclosed fingers. Tony is great at talking about himself, going into detail about his latest project and you followed along, adding short nods to make sure he knew that you were paying attention.

By the time the car slowed, Tony’s description of the changes he wanted to make to the tower are cut short. It’s apparent that the relationship with Pepper had on the rocks, judging my the way he repeatedly called her Miss Potts and your mind connected the dots of her cool response to you earlier in the afternoon. There was a chime somewhere inside the car and Tony stared at his wrist.

“Not now,” he muttered into the watch before the door opened. Happy stood at the door, giving you a smile as he extended his hand to help you out.

You were greeted by photographers, turning your back to them quickly while Tony followed suit behind you, guiding you gently at the small of your back as you turned to face them.

“Sorry,” Tony apologized, lifting his hand in a greeting to the photographers. “It comes with the job.”

The table was private, the sound of the waves crashing over the rocks below as a napkin was placed into your lap.

Tony was once again distracted, his eyes focused on his watch before he pushed back his chair. Whatever he was reading didn’t seem to impress him, his face contorted into an annoyed glare while his lips set in a frown. A waiter approached quickly, anticipating answering whatever Tony was going to request.

“One moment,” he said to you, holding up a finger while he turned to the waiter. “We’ll take a bottle of the Domaine Leroy Musigny. Actually, make it two. I’m thinking of the chef’s menu tonight. You got that, Junior?”

The waiter nodded quickly, all but marching back to inside as Tony swore under his breath before he breezed past you. You sat alone, enjoying the view for a moment as the waiter returned with the bottles of wine, opening one quickly as he filled up your glass and Tony’s.

Several minutes passed before Tony sunk back into his chair.

“Interns,” Tony said flatly. “Hand holding stopped in the third grade, right?”

You were sympathetic, pushing his glass of wine toward him.

“Maybe they thought it was an emergency,” you offered.

“You’d think Peter would be self-sufficient. The kid is smart but he lacks common sense sometimes.”

You placed your glass back down at the mention of his name.

“Peter?”

“Yeah, May’s nephew. She said you knew him, right?”

“I-I do,” you stammered. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t put two and two together.”

The waiter that seemed overly nervous was replaced with a younger brunette who hovered near the door, her mascara slicked eyelashes batting in Tony’s direction.

“Don’t worry about it. May says that you’ve got a degree in Computer Engineering. It almost makes me a little hurt that you never applied for a job at SI.”

He lingered a little too long at the brunette in the back. You felt your confidence slipping, focusing on answering the question instead of wanting to give into the curiosity behind you.

“It honestly never occurred to me. I felt that I could use my talents where people would need them. Non-profits usually operate with low income and rely on donors. I was very fortunate that we were able to continue our work. So, I suppose I have you to thank for me keeping my job.”

“Don’t mention it. The offer still stands by the way. You could leave that little shoebox of a non-profit and put your talents to use,” Tony replied, giving you a look at made you blush. “All of them.”

“I don’t think I could leave May. I’ve been there for so long, too.”

You caught his wink at the waitress and you gave into the curiosity that was biting at the back of your mind. She was beautiful, younger and thinner than you, still standing back toward the door. She caught your stare, turning up her lips in an almost triumphant smirk, as if to gloat that she had caught his attention.

“Am I interrupting something?” you asked, surprising yourself with the hint of vehemence in your voice.

Tony turned his attention back to you, giving you a sheepish smile, aware that he had been caught.

“You were saying?”

You downed what little wine was left in your glass.

“I should go,” you replied. “That’s what I was saying.”

There was no way you’d allow this to continue for a moment longer. Not when you’d squeezed yourself into this dress and pumps that made your feet ache with every step. Let alone the fact that once again, someone younger had caught the glance of a person you’d taken a chance on saying yes to. Even if it was Tony Stark, you couldn’t stomach the thought of watching him go back and forth with the girl behind you.

“Wait. You’re seriously going to go?” Tony asked, his brown eyes widening in surprise. His watch chimed once more and he silenced it quickly.

The waitress rushed over to help you as you pushed away from the table, Tony’s eyes on the slight bounce of your breasts in the low-cut dress.

“Positive,” you answered. “Thanks for the invite. Maybe another time when you’re not so… distracted.”

You ignored the dull ache of your feet that tapped against the marbled floor, head still held high as you called for a taxi. You’d half expected tears at this point, another disappointment to add to your stories of failed dating. Maybe it was the fact that you were still high off the adrenaline of leaving a powerful man like Tony Stark at the table.

May would eat up this story when you saw her.

🕷

The ride back to your apartment was quiet, rubbing your arms in the backseat of the taxi as the air conditioner blasted through the vents on your already frozen skin. You hadn’t even made it a block away from the restaurant when you decided that this was your last date for a while.

When you opened the door to your apartment, there was the immediate feeling that you weren’t alone in your apartment once you closed the door. You’d been on autopilot, closing it behind you and locking it like you always did, paying no attention to anything except the sound of the lock sliding into place.

Eyeing the shadows that seemed to move inside your bedroom, you reached behind you, fumbling for the lock while you tried to dial 911. If it was Peter, you’d had enough. The dark figure appeared right as you tried to open the door. Taller than Peter, massive in size while the figure lunched toward you. The pumps had caught in the carpet and you fell, hitting your arm on the coffee table. The pain was intense and you knew you’d broken it, a sob cracking through your lips as the figure held you down, the heavy weight on your chest crushing your lungs as you struggled to breathe.

“Shut up! Or I’ll give you something to cry about. Where’s your purse?” the figure demanded, a heavy gloved hand covering your mouth.

With shaky fingers, you pointed to the counter.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you begged, your plea muffled against the leather, the smell of the gloves making you nauseous. Your arm throbbed as the figure rose from you, your lungs expanding back with precious air as they rifled through your purse. You coughed with each breath, searching around in the dark for your cell phone.

Once you found it, you crawled toward it, a boot crushing down on your hand before you could grasp it.

“You gonna call the cops? I don’t think so.”

A swift kick to the stomach rendered you immobile, the breath flattened out of you, your hands cradling your middle. You figured this was how you were going to die, alone in your apartment in the dark, dressed for your funeral.

Before the figure could lift their boot in another attack, they were thrown by an unseen force, crashing into the wall. Their howl of pain indicated that they were in pain, another sound of something rustling inside the dark before the intruder went silent.

“Are you okay, Miss?” a voice asked, lifting up from where they had felled your attacker.

A blur of red and blue stood above you.

“M-my arm… it’s broken,” you wailed, the pain making your eyes water. “Please help me.”

“I’m here, Miss. I’ve got you.”

When he got closer, you felt yourself be lifted gently, right into his arms.

“Don’t worry, I’m here.”

Once your eyes adjusted as the pain in your stomach was a dull ache, you cradled your arm and nodded. Gratefulness did not even begin to cover how you felt at that moment.

“Thank you, Spider-man. Thank you.”

🕷

Machines beeped around you, the sterile white of the hospital room was almost too bright for your eyes. A police officer hovered over your bed, a look of sympathy painted on his features.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Ma’am. Rest assured your attacker was caught and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Thank you for your cooperation in this case. We’ll be in touch if we need anything further,” he informed you, giving you a grateful tip of his hat before he walked out of the room.

May nearly collided with him as she skidded into the room, her eyes red with tears as she swooped down to embrace you, being mindful of your left arm that was now in a cast.

“Oh my god,” May wailed, squeezing you so tight that you could feel her heartbeat next to yours. “Are you okay? I came as soon as I got the call.”

“I will be,” you responded as May pulled away to look at your face.

“You could have been killed!”

Leave it to May to go to the worst case scenario. There was nothing left for you to say. Telling her the intruder had also fractured three of your ribs would only set her off more and right now, you were happy to see a familiar face. May dropped herself into a chair, wiping her eyes with a balled up tissue.

“How long are they keeping you?”

“Overnight for observation.”

The doctors had murmured that they were uncertain about how well you’d recover from your fractured ribs due to what one doctor had called your ‘advanced age’. That had set you off enough to request that you wanted to leave right then and there, with a nurse coming in to talk to you to make a plea for you to rest and make a formal complaint when you were feeling better.

“I’ll stay here tonight,” May announced. “You can stay with me until you feel up to going back to your apartment. Peter and I already discussed coming over and cleaning up the place from… what happened. Thank God Spider-Man was there.”

Truer words had never been spoken, your head nodding in agreement while your eyes roamed down the cast. You’d never broken a bone before, letting alone fracturing anything in your body. The officer had mentioned that there had been a string of break-ins in the area, leading their gratitude to Spider-Man who had kept the perpetrator wrapped up – literally – until the police came. Spider-Man had stayed with you the entire time, his voice unrecognizable and familiar at the same time while he talked you through how brave you’d been. Your phone had been crushed in the scuffle but he’d asked who he could call to tell them what happened and you hadn’t hesitated to mention May.

“I’m lucky he was there,” you said finally, wincing as you tried to move. The bandages wrapped around your middle were worse than the shapewear you’d worn and the dress and date were now a far memory.

But not for May.

“Tony called. Something about cutting the date short? He asked if you were home and I said no. I didn’t realize that you were…” May trailed off, shaking her head as tears welled up in her eyes. “He feels terrible. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” All the attention was beginning to grate on your nerves. Not being in your own bed and having to most likely relive the attack once your eyes closed did not make sleep sound comforting in the slightest.

“Hey,” a voice piped up from the entrance of your room.

Peter held a giant vase in his arms, the floral arrangement vibrant as he settled them on the table across from you. He was dressed casual, a plain black shirt and a pair of jeans, his hair wet like he’d just taken a shower.

“Aunt May told me what happened. I figured these could cheer you up a little.”

“Thank you,” you responded, watching him sink into a chair next to his aunt. He shared a look of concern with May and gave a short sigh.

“I’m going to stay at Ned’s for a few days. Aunt May will take my room and you can take hers.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” you declined, both of them shaking their heads at your denial.

“We insist,” May argued. “You’re in no condition to be alone and it was Peter’s idea to stay at Ned’s. We both care about you. You’re outvoted anyway.”

You leaned your head back against the pillows, looking up at the ceiling before you finally gave in.

“Just for a few days,” you warned.

“Of course,” Peter acknowledged. “It makes me feel better that my two favorite girls will be under one roof.”

He gave you a little wink as May reached for your hand. You squeezed it hard, not wanting to let go.

“Oh, babe,” May cooed, her thumb running over the top of your hand. “It’s gonna be okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

Peter had a penchant for dumpster diving.

Not just for anything but specifically spare parts that he could use to boost his computer's memory. He'd found a perfectly workable Mac computer, one of the first of it's kind haphazardly tossed inside a dumpster two blocks away that he'd cleaned up and rewired. Immensely proud of getting it to work and actually having it be a usable computer to save his homework on, it was little wonder why he started to take various detours home when his beloved piece of machinery began to run slower than normal.

He'd snuck into May's office more times than he could count to finish his homework, feeling guilty about utilizing the ink and paper from the printer, trying his best to catch his reports before someone noticed. You always seemed to be at the printer, handing him his papers before anyone else noticed, giving him pointers on his grammar and any mistakes he'd made. This meant you'd had a chance to glance at his work before he got embarrassed and stuffed them into his binder. It was you who had helped him pass his class by a few marks made with a red pen, no doubt done before he had shuffled toward the printer to take them out of your waiting hands. There was never enough gratitude that he could express when his final grades were posted. You'd told him once you knew what it was like to not have a computer, let alone having to sneak into a library to pay ten cents a page to complete an English paper. You were relatable in that respect, knowing the struggle of a high school student and not making him feel less than.

You laughed at his silly jokes that Ned would have rolled his eyes at and were a staple at Aunt May's apartment for family dinners. You both put her to bed when she had too much to drink, in tandem taking off her shoes and pulling the blankets over her. He'd seen you go toe to toe with one of her ex-boyfriends, who had once gotten a little liquid courage to come and confront her. You played video games, ate ice cream from the carton and didn't care about labels, be it on your clothes or otherwise. Peter decided he liked that most of all. He and Aunt May weren't exactly rich but they made do and it made you relatable to him. While high school girls were droning on about the latest designers and bemoaning cheap knockoffs, you didn't care that he cycled through the same five or six shirts. He doubted that you even noticed. Every Christmas, you'd managed to nail exactly what he wanted without a second thought. It was never a contest but if it was, Peter believed that you would win every time.

No one was more surprised on his eighteenth birthday when he was gifted with a brand new MacBook and printer for his eighteenth birthday, a joint gift between Aunt May and you. He'd figured that the gift was more from you than May but never let it show. It was thoughtful, practical and so very much _you_ that he was mindful about where he carried it, let alone mar it with stickers like he'd seen the rest of his classmates do.

He didn't admit his crush on you, not even after Ned had teased him about the picture he took of you at his graduation dinner. You were mid laugh, a sparkle in your eye and your hair shining under the lights. It was pure joy, laughing at a joke that Peter had cracked right before dessert. He didn't care that Ned made fun of him because he didn't understand that women like you were not like those high school girls that most boys would crush on. They'd barely give him or Peter a second look, let alone a chance. You got to know him as a person, what he liked and didn't like and you treated him like your equal. There was no way he'd get that respect, not even from MJ, who sometimes could cut him down with just a glare.

But you were different.

You were young at heart, if not in mind and soul, too. He'd watched you sign up for hot yoga, spin class and kickboxing. The latter was just around the corner, close enough for him to linger long enough to see you give yourself a pep talk. Some people would call you a quitter but he thought of it differently. You were wiser now, not afraid to forge into the unknown but you knew what you liked and what you didn't once you got there. He could understand that. In some ways, you were both on the same path, trying out new experiences and understanding your place in the world.

Rather than do it alone, Peter reasoned you could do it together. In fact, he needed you to do it together. Tony called him 'kid' and while it was a term of endearment, he understood that it was stated as a fact more than anything else. Steve had picked up on Peter's frown when the word was tossed around and simply called him by his hometown when he felt particularly nostalgic. Which was often.

He believed he was far from being 'just a kid'. A kid wouldn't have taken the pains to walk into a lingerie store and pick out a curated set. He had watched you eye it more than once when you walked by it on your way home from work, eyes lingering long enough while he stood in the shadows before you would give a denial with a shake of your head before you moved on. Brave enough to buy it but not enough to actually give it to you, he'd left it at the door, his favorite hoodie over his baseball cap to disguise himself as a run of the mill delivery driver. He'd gotten May's selfies during your paint and wine night that showed you progressively getting drunk as the night went on.

His curiosity had won out, as well as his sense of wanting to keep you safe from any harm that had once been fiercely focused on Aunt May and then to you. Though he couldn't help himself when you were stretched out on the bed. He'd undressed you like you had done May so many times before, getting her into her pajamas and into bed that he had stopped short when he'd removed your pants and saw that you were wearing a pair of plain cotton underwear.

He thought that maybe you were afraid to wear it. Someone like you who was so practical that it made sense why you wouldn't wear such a thing.

Peter did a lot of things without much thought.

Which was why his brain was on autopilot the night he'd hooked his fingers down your underwear, shimmying them down while he inhaled the faintest scent of your lavender body wash and a hint of your perfume, the one you sprayed in the air and walked into so that it was never overpowering. But how close he had been to your skin, so warm and soft, he found himself kissing down your belly and had waited for you to wake up. When you didn't, he felt bolder, inching down little by little until he found the center of you that responded to his touch. It wasn't until your fingers threaded down into his hair that he came to the realization that you thought you were dreaming. It was too much and too fast, Peter letting you fall back asleep before he carefully slipped on to the lingerie onto your body, liking the way you felt in his arms.

Helpless.

He liked feeling needed. Helpfulness was a trait that had always defined him and he took it seriously, especially when it came to the people he cared about. To him, it was his duty to keep them safe. Aunt May was easy to watch, she liked routines.

You were harder to keep watch over, though not impossible and for a little, Peter liked to simply watch you go as far as you felt brave enough to go until it was too much.

Tony Stark being one of them.

In time, he'd forgive Tony for meddling in what was his. He'd forgive you too for going. Tony's charms were like a mirage. Good from afar but disappeared once you got close. It was his trait, his way and for most women, they were okay with being wined and dined, taken up to his penthouse and then being called a taxi the next morning. He'd seen Pepper escort them out. But Tony was smart and Peter saw the way he looked at you, the rich playboy's look of surprise when you got up from your seat. Peter could not have been more proud of you.

Or the performance of the girl he'd met in his internship, who was also studying to be an actress. She'd made a great distraction for Tony, proving to Peter that he was always going to be the same way. You'd reacted the way he expected.

But it was a close call.

Too close.

Peter would not make that mistake again.

🕷

There was a slight dip in the bed and your eyes opened slowly. Though you'd never admit it, a firm mattress had you sleeping like a baby and you made a mental note to look up how much a new bed would set you back. May held out a steaming mug of coffee while you looked past her sympathetic stare. From the moment you had stepped through the door of her apartment, she had been handling you with kid gloves, not letting you lift a finger. When the first sip of coffee reached your lips, May seemed satisfied with the fact you didn't argue over the creamer to coffee ratio, of which she was more creamer to coffee than you liked.

"Tony wanted to know if it was okay if he came by later." May's eyes shined with amusement under her glasses. "You must have made an impression."

You made a face at her praise.

"Did I? I assumed the waitress he was making eyes at was the one who impressed him."

May groaned, rolling her eyes before she took another sip of her coffee.

"Well, she's not the one he's trying to come see," May sang, poking you in the thigh. "I still can't believe you actually up and left him on a date! The whole office was amazed. Not surprised, mind you."

"Yeah, I'm a real hard ass when it comes to undivided attention. It's all or nothing," you answered sarcastically. "But seriously, why do you think he wants to come visit?"

May shrugged.

"Happy seems to think he's still bowled over at the fact you left him hanging. You know how some men are. Hurt their pride and they come running back for more."

You took that moment to latch onto that piece of information.

"Happy, huh? Is that still a thing?"

She let out a slow sigh and scrunched up her face with a smile.

"Maybe? I don't know. We're taking it slow this time."

You settled back on the pillows, watching the rain patter against the windows. It had been two whole days since you'd taken up your temporary residence at May's. Peter had kept to his word, all but disappearing while May lightheartedly complained that Peter was a pack rat with the amount of computer parts he'd collected throughout the years. You had felt better each day. Asking May to take you home was still out of the question and there was a realization that you both had been lonely and this was a sisterhood that you had been looking for since you were a kid, someone who could understand your quirks and still appreciate you for who you were.

"Good to know. I guess it's fine if Tony comes over. I look like a complete mess so he'll have to deal with that."

"I can help you, you know," May argued, checking out your messy bun as you lifted your cast to get comfortable. "How's the wrist?"

"Cumbersome."

"That means it's healing. I'm going to get started on breakfast. Peter's coming over."

"I thought he was staying at Ned's."

May patted your calf as she lifted herself up from the bed, finishing the last of her coffee.

"It's just breakfast, silly. You're just like Peter. Can't share me with anyone."

The minute May left the room, everything flooded back to you. You'd been gaining the courage to talk to her, to tell her what had transpired and what you knew to be true. There was a nagging part of you that wasn't sure if May would believe you. Peter was her world and she took on the role of caregiver so well when his parents had passed that you weren't sure if she was going to be receptive to the news that you were going to bring to light.

🕷

By the time Peter had arrived, the table had been set and you'd been pushed into a seat by May, who was doling out the eggs, bacon and pancakes on each plate. May enveloped Peter into a hug that lingered long enough for him to give you a little glance while you placed the napkin on your lap to distract from his gaze.

"How are you?" Peter asked, shoveling eggs onto his fork.

"Better. Healing as fast as I can so I can be out of May's hair."

"I don't mind!" May called out from the kitchen.

"We like having you under our roof," Peter agreed. "So.... uh, you met Spider-Man? That's what Aunt May said, I think?"

Peter seemed to be excited to talk about him. Almost like he was mentioning a celebrity.

If it meant not having an awkward moment with him, you'd talk about Spider-Man all day.

"He saved me during that ordeal. I never met him before but I don't think I could ever repay him. All those weird podcasts from J. Jonah Jameson are trash, I'll tell you that much. Spider-Man was a gentleman."

Peter nodded as he chewed on a piece of bacon.

"Gentleman, huh? I heard he's like, an Avenger now? Or something like that, I don't know."

You wouldn't have been surprised if that was true. The sheer strength of him alone was enough for you to agree. May broke the conversation by placing down a pan of cinnamon rolls, freshly iced as Peter's eyes locked in on them.

"Aw, Aunt May, what's the occasion?"

May beamed at his question, pointing to you.

"Out of the hospital and healing."

"That must have been terrifying for you. Good thing Spider-Man was there."

"I'm definitely lucky," you replied, finishing the last of your pancakes.

"Tony's coming over tonight," May announced, looking at her phone. "Peter, are you going to stick around to see your boss?"

Peter's fork dropped onto the plate, clattering noisily as May watched him snatch it back up.

"Sorry, Aunt May. Uh, you said Mr. Stark is coming over?"

"I did. Maybe you can show him your new projects. I saw that super bright light that was under your bedroom like two weeks ago. You remember the one. It lit up the whole house."

"Y-yeah, maybe. I've been spending a lot of time at the lab, though. If I'm done with work, maybe I'll stop by and say hi. I haven't seen Mr. Stark in a few weeks so that'll be nice to see him."

Peter finished his breakfast, downing his orange juice and watching May take a phone call and head to the back of the apartment.

"You never told me if you liked your gift."

Pushing your plate away from you, your lips set into a frown before you addressed it.

"I can't accept it. It's very nice, don't get me wrong. I don't think it's appropriate to give someone a gift like that. I appreciate the thought of it."

"Of course you can accept it," he urged, pulling out his phone. "I think the colors look great on you. See?"

He scrolled through the photos of you asleep, clad in the lingerie. You pushed back your chair, Peter's hand on your cast as he held it in place, looking toward the hallway to make sure May was still far away enough so she couldn't hear.

"It's appropriate to give people you care about gifts, right? What makes it inappropriate?"

"That's the kind of gift... Peter, this isn't right," you whispered back, his grip on your cast leaving you no room to move. "Lingerie is something that's personal."

Peter licked his lips slightly, a small smile playing over his lips as he nodded slightly in agreement.

"We've been there. Up close and personal."


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, you awake? Tony's here."

May's voice roused you from your nap, your body still feeling slightly achy while you tried to prop yourself on the pillow that was tucked under your back. You hadn't meant to fall asleep but May had insisted that you rest. You squeezed your eyes shut and then opened them, trying to get adjusted to the light that May turned on. She sat at the edge of the bed, giving you a cheerful smile.

"He brought you flowers. I'd bring them in here but it's a pretty big bouquet." Her eyebrows waggled suggestively and you rolled your eyes with a groan.

"It can't be that big."

"Oh, but it is. It's huge, Peter had to help me bring it inside. Takes up the whole coffee table."

May grabbed your ankle gently.

"Promise me you won't kick him out the moment he comes in? He seems awfully apologetic."

You stifled back a smile as you nodded slowly. May grinned back at you before she stood up.

"I'll tell him to come in."

You smoothed back your hair in an attempt to look presentable, knowing that you probably still looked like you had just woken up. Maybe that was for the better, you reasoned to yourself. You were simply too tired to put in any effort.

The door pushed open slowly and Tony hung in the entrance, giving you a sympathetic stare, a hint of what you thought was a smile playing upon his lips. Gone was the usual suit and tie, replaced with a tracksuit and trainers. Dressed down and more accessible. His eyes were trained on your cast.

"Hey. Mind if I come in?"

You motioned to the end of the bed, watching him shut the door before he took up a seat near your blanketed feet. Tony inhaled deeply, looking around May's bedroom before he finally spoke.

"You know, once you get better, you gotta help May redecorate this place. Those drapes are a Shakespearean dramedy." He says it with a wink, a small laugh erupting from your mouth that makes him nod. "That's better. I like you a lot better when you're laughing and not busting my balls at dinner."

"You were occupied, remember?" You couldn't help but remind him of that fact, the look on his face as you walked out still a clear memory in your mind.

"You're right. I was. That's the reason I wanted to come by. Well, a two fold, maybe three fold reason. One, because I wanted to apologize for my outrageous behavior at staring at an intern that was supposed to be working on a project for work and not spying on me. Two, I have to wonder if I hadn't had the decency to explain myself that you wouldn't have left so quickly, ergo putting you directly in harm's way. I've been thinking about that a lot. I do that, you know. That whole harm's way thing, I have a habit of tunnel vision and I, well, I fuck it up. Over and over. I'm sure Miss Potts has alluded to it. It's a personality trait that I try to hide."

His comment hung in the air as you processed what he was saying. You didn't blame him for the attack. That was not even a thought that had entered your mind.

"I blew it with her. Long time ago, should be water under the bridge and sometimes, it is. Other times, I'm reminded that I can do better. That's why I'm here. To say I'm sorry."

Never in a million years had you expected an apology from Tony Stark, let alone hear him open up about his past relationship with Pepper. While you had gotten the download from May inside your cubicle, Tony and Pepper had been a common fixture in every single magazine you'd picked up, their high profile relationship documented for the thousands, if not millions.

You leaned forward, raising an eyebrow at his pause.

"And third?"

"Ah, you were listening after all," Tony quipped. "Three, I want a chance to try again. A date, I mean."

"Try again? I'd imagine your schedule is probably packed." There went your defense mechanism, sarcasm draped over the insecurity that you were trying to hide. At the moment, you couldn't imagine squeezing into control top shapewear and sky high heels.

"I'm sure I could clear it for the right person." He looked back at you with his whiskey colored eyes and a dastardly charming smile. "What do you say?"

A knock at the door interrupted your approval, Peter's head peeking out from the open door.

"Hey, Mr. Stark. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Tony turned around to look at him, his expression changing into a more hardened stare.

"Just catching up. Did you need something, Pete?"

Peter smiled with a shake of his head before his eyes widened.

"Actually, yeah. I, uh, wanted to show you this upgrade to one of your applications that I've been working on. I'm running some beta on it if you want to see it."

His voice was full of hope and urgency, like a kid excited on Christmas.

"Which one?"

Peter smirked in your direction, like they had a shared secret between them. Peter acted differently when Tony was around. You had expected him to make his appearance much sooner than he had and even now, he was keeping his distance.

"Operation Red."

Tony's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Upgrades? That's supposed to be classified."

He stood up, pausing for a moment to give you his attention.

"Gimme a second, Parker. I'll be there in a bit."

"Sure, Mr. Stark. No problem."

The door closed again and you had your answer ready on the tip of your tongue. Tony glanced back at the door and then back to you.

"So, how about it?"

You tapped your finger against your cheek for a moment, trying to keep a stoic expression on your face. To answer too quickly made you think it might come off as desperate and you wanted him to suffer through his ego a little while longer.

"Still busting my balls. That's a good strategy."

"Can I pick the place?"

Your question caught him off guard, his eyes narrowing at you with a wolfish smile.

"Sure thing. I was going to suggest a shawarma place I know but ladies choice it is."

A muffled voice down the hall interrupted you once again.

"Mr. Stark?! I got it to work!"

"Christ, Peter," Tony muttered, shaking his head as his hand rested on the doorknob. "Indoor voices are still a thing, right? I'll let you get your rest. Ball is in your court now, gorgeous."

With a wink, he disappeared out the door.

🕷

"You can't be serious."

Tony looked up at the sign while you grinned at his confused expression.

"Totally serious," you informed him. "Scared?"

"We could have gone to dinner instead."

You cocked your head to the side at his comment. You thought your idea was excellent and no amount of Tony Stark turning up his nose at your choice was going to ruin it.

"I don't cook. I don't even know anyone that cooks beside..." he trailed off.

"Your chef?" you offered, as you headed toward the door. "It's simple. That's what a cooking class is for. You'll learn."

You refused to let anything ruin your good mood. After pleading with May that you couldn't continue to put her out and have her sleeping in Peter's room, she finally relented. You'd changed the locks the minute you got back to your apartment, cleaning up the remaining mess and installing a security system. Though you hadn't slept well the first night, each night you returned back to normalcy, the better you slept.

More importantly, you were away from Peter. You'd made the decision to go back home while Peter was still at Ned's. Your phone was still broken and you hadn't rushed to get a new phone, enjoying the fact that you were off the grid for a little except for your land line in case of emergencies. You hadn't heard from Peter nor seen him and for a while, he was starting to fade out of your consciousness, relegated to the back of your mind. May had mentioned that he and MJ were taking a trip out of the state and you'd listened intently, hoping that whatever crush he had was finally out of his system.

For now, you focused on work and healing your broken wrist. And in between that, trying to convince Tony Stark to take a cooking class.

When you finally sat at the metal table, Tony sat across from you, shrugging his jacket off and rolling up his sleeves. You were keenly aware of the few stares that recognized him, hushed whispers behind his back. A millionaire playboy taking a cooking class. You could only imagine the headlines and you bit back a smile while you studied the giant room. As the instructor came in, you took stock of the people in the room. Couples, a few single people and you and Tony. You felt someone watching you and you looked away from studying the words on the whiteboard to see him looking at you.

"What?"

"I hope you know that I'm picking the next place we go," he informed you with a smirk. "Now let's get our hands dirty."

You trudged up the steps with your leftovers in hand, Tony following behind. You had spots of red sauce on your sleeves, the smell of garlic and salt on your shirt but you were full and still buzzed from the glasses of wine that followed. Tony's shirt was ruined more than yours was but you didn't dare point it out. Still, you watched him mutter over measuring ingredients and start to brainstorm how to enhance the stove that you had utilized. A genius at heart but you saw the softer side of him, the way he cut into the steak and savored the first bite of the filet mignon that he had cooked himself. A small window in the life of Tony Stark, the playboy exterior stripped away as he unceremoniously bemoaned the watery mashed potatoes that you ate without complaint. Truly a date to remember.

You laughed to yourself as you got to the door, feeling like a teenager all over again as you crunched the key into the lock.

"Thanks for letting me pick our activity," you started, shifting the box in your hand. "It was fun."

A smile spread across his lips as he gave a short nod.

"Sure thing. Nothing like some burn leftovers to end the night."

"You had fun. Admit it."

"Me? Fun? Fun is flying to Napa and having the chef's table overlooking a vineyard. This? This was absolutely undeniably one of the most interesting nights I've had in a while. And I have you to thank for that." He laughed for a moment, shaking his head. "And I just realized that I walked you to your door."

You raised an eyebrow at his statement.

"So?"

"So... I usually walk women to my bed. Not their doors."

You nibbled on your lip at the comment. You hadn't thought that he'd walk you to the door and even when he did, you hadn't thought about it until he was standing next to you. The nagging voice in the back of your head said he was doing this act of chivalry for your safety. It was hard to ignore but you forced yourself to keep yourself in the moment.

"Guess I'm the lucky one you get to walk to the door."

Tony's tongue poked at the side of his mouth.

"Lucky. You got that right."

You turned the key in the lock.

"Watching you almost burn down dinner? I was lucky to witness that."

He laughed then, a hint of a dimple in his cheek for a moment.

"Fair enough."

You resigned that you weren't smooth enough to say anything else that was witty, still clutching your leftovers.

"You're right you know," Tony said, looking at his watch for a moment. His expression darkened before he tried to change it, giving you a long gaze. "I did have fun."

The vibration on his wrist continued but he ignored it, taking a step closer to you.

"And I am lucky."

His lips met yours and you gripped the box in your hand as you kissed him back. As he pulled away, you heard the bluetooth in his ear - something about an attack - you had hoped you were hearing wrong and brushed off the thought.

"Goodnight."

He took quick steps back toward the stairs before he spun around.

"I'm picking the next date, by the way," he told you before he turned back around and continued on his way.

"If you insist."

Even thought you were halfway through the door, you heard him swear loudly as his footsteps went down the stairs amid the sound of metal whirring somewhere close by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, over 100 kudos already! Thank you for reading 🥺.

"You're smiling."

You tried to keep your lips in a straight line as you blinked at May.

"It's... nice," you fumbled, feeling the heat rush into your face. "It's just a phone. Still learning all the apps on it."

"That's the newest phone on the market. I thought you said you weren't going to buy one yet."

You hesitated.

"I didn't."

May's mouth dropped open with a dramatic gasp, looking over her shoulder before she got closer to you to inspect it. It had been a week since Tony had left your doorstep and life had gone back to normal.

The morning after you'd woke, you poured yourself a cup of coffee and leaned over the counter to watch the news. Another building toppled, hundreds saved by Spider-Man and Iron Man, respectively. Something had caught your eye during the clip they played, making you jam your finger to rewind. Two superheroes battling an unknown assailant. The colors of Spider-Man's uniform and Iron Man's glistening armored suit in a blue of colors. You paused it, leaving behind your coffee as you trained your eyes on the frozen screen.

The strong armored hands were over Spider-Man's neck.

Like a choke hold.

You had rewound it four times, unable to get the image out of your head. It had ended as quickly as it began, the two separating and the footage cut as they disappeared from view.

And then the phone had shown up at your door with a video message from Tony ready for you to view.

"You've got about what, five more weeks with that cast, I think? I'm sure you're itching to take it off and come up with another scheme to make me embarrass myself. Which, I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. But I was thinking that you are phenomenally hard to get a hold of so I took care of that for you. Standard issue phone." He held the phone up with a smirk that had made you laugh. "I can't even say that with a straight face. A few new apps, nothing too crazy. But use it, whenever you need."

May's arms enveloped you into a hug amid her squeal.

"May," you warned with a laugh. "Don't celebrate. It's a phone."

"What do you mean don't celebrate! I can't be happy for my best friend?"

"Happy for a phone?" you pressed, watching her eyes go wide as she tapped you on the back.

"You know what I mean. That's big."

"It's... not," you promised. "Maybe he wants to make sure I don't run away from him when he starts to look at other women if we ever go on another date. Seriously May, it's just a phone and it's a nice one, I'll admit. But we're not planning our future together."

"But you could."

"How's Happy?" you asked, in a vain attempt to change the subject.

"Perfectly fine. How are you and Tony?"

You let your head fall back over your shoulders as you blew out a breath as you both shared a laugh.

"Oh, gosh! I almost forgot! I'm having lunch with Peter. He asked if I would bring you along."

Your laughter faded at her news.

"Lunch? I was going to just eat here. You go on ahead. I know you haven't seen him."

"We can both go," May offered, picking up your purse and putting on the desk. "You know you're his favorite next to me. He's been putting in long hours at work and the internship so I imagine this lunch probably took some time to plan. Please? For me?"

"May... isn't that intrusive? You and Peter should have family time."

"You _are_ family," she corrected, helping you out of your chair. "Live a little."

🕷

Peter pulled out your chair for you as you sat, May placing a napkin in her lap before she glanced at the menu.

"Pete, this place is expensive," she muttered, her finger stopping at a price and looking at you. "Thirty dollars? For a salad?"

"Aunt May, don't worry about it. It's my treat," Peter urged, sitting in his chair, flanked by yourself and May on either side. "Besides, I have an announcement to make."

"Announcement?" May pushed her glasses back up over her nose.

"Let's order first and then I'll tell you."

As a waiter approached and May fired off her order, you noticed Peter's stare. When your eyes drifted to his over your menu, he smiled, charismatic as always.

"And for you, Miss?"

"I'll have the house pasta," you said quickly, already bemoaning in your mind the amount of calories that would be. Maybe if you didn't think about it, they wouldn't exist when you consumed them.

"And for you, Sir?"

"That sounds good. I'll have the same."

After the menus were collected, May leaned forward with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay, we've ordered. What is it? Spill."

Peter let out a sigh, smoothing down his sweater.

"I found an apartment. I'm moving out."

"Peter!" May said in a near shout. "What? You're moving out?"

"Aunt May, it's time. I've been saying for months now that I needed to move out. I had way too much stuff in my room and I was always coming in at different hours of the night. This is good for you. You can bring Happy over as much as you want," he countered, the last of his words nearly strained. It was apparent to you that he was not a fan of Happy dating May.

"B-but, this is so sudden. Where are you moving?"

Peter took a sip of his water and smiled.

"Not far. I, uh, actually am in the same high rise as you," he answered, looking straight at you. "We're neighbors."

May let out a sigh of relief as your menu fell and floated to the floor. Your smile faded as Peter bent down to pick up the fallen paper. A rush of noise went to your head, thinking about how he would be so much more closer. Not just within walking distance but floors, maybe steps, away.

"You okay?" May asked, touching your arm. At the sensation, you jumped.

"Sorry, deep in thought."

"You sure? You look like you froze."

"Wondering if I locked my computer or not. We left so abruptly," you lied.

"I'm sure you did. You're better at that than me," she assured you, turning her attention back to Peter. "When do you move out?"

"A week or so. I have the keys already but the furniture is going to take a while to get there. MJ wants to decorate."

"So you're moving in with MJ?"

May's question gave you some sense of hope. Maybe he had decided to abandon this dream of keeping you close to him and had moved on.

"Uh, no. Not exactly. We're still trying to figure things out but it's a start, I guess? She's been busy with her photography and her job. Maybe one day."

May sighed in defeat, lifting and dropping her shoulders.

"I guess. I'll be right back, I need to go to the ladies room."

Before you had a chance to volunteer to go with her, she was gone. You knew why. The news of Peter moving had shaken her and she was trying to compose herself.

"She's upset," Peter said quietly, playing with his hands as he clasped them together. "I thought she'd be happy."

"You've been with her since your parents passed. She's in shock." You couldn't believe you had found your voice but your heart went out to May. If the shoe was on the other foot, you knew you'd be upset at the announcement. Especially if it was done in front of someone else.

"I'm not a kid anymore."

"I didn't say that."

He sucked in a breath, dark eyes focusing on you.

"You didn't have to. You remind me every chance you get. You like him, don't you?"

You stilled at his words, spoken like a child in the midst of throwing a tantrum.

"Who?"

"Come on, I'm not naive. Mr. Stark. I saw the night he came over. He's not a good person to try to date. Great mentor but you don't want to get caught up with him. I liked Miss Potts and he ruined that relationship. They barely speak to each other and the night they broke up? I saw women in and out of his office. You want to be like them? For someone your age, I thought you'd be smarter."

The tone in which he had just spoken to you was quiet but dangerous, the way his voice had shown no emotion.

"My age? What the hell does that mean?" Your flats dug into the tile as you pushed your chair back, ready to leave without notice.

"You're smart. You know better and you know that he's... he's just not the type for you."

"You mean younger," you scoffed, feeling the heat of your anger return to your face. "That's rich, Peter. Maybe I should tell May about the pictures you took."

He looked at you in confusion.

"What pictures?"

"That's not funny," you snapped, looking around to see if you could spot May. "I saw them."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Seriously."

As you tried to get up at the sight of May from afar, your cast was knocked back onto the table. It rattled you, making you squeak in surprise. He leaned in closer, his thumb brushing against your fingers. From far away it looked like a secret, the way he was so close to your ear.

"You tell her about it and I'll make sure that he breaks your other wrist."

May sat down right as he let you go, giving her a big smile.

"Hey Aunt May. Welcome back."


	8. Chapter 8

You looked down at your cast, filled with the graffiti of various pens and markers like you were a teenager again. Get well soons, best wishes and silly quotes tattooed the plaster that you were almost sorry to see go. You balanced your purse on your lap, ignoring another text from May while you waited to be called.

There had been attempts to tell her the truth that day Peter had admitted that he knew how your wrist had been broken. The shock of it had rendered you mute for the rest of the lunch, afraid of what would happen if you spoke up about what he had said. Watching May that afternoon, seeing the pain on her face as she tried to digest the news, you couldn't bring yourself to add to it, excusing yourself to leave the table. You flagged down a cab, your eyes continuing to look back behind you for any sign of Peter. Your paranoia had reached new heights, leading you up the stairs as you double bolted the door, checking the windows and locks to make sure everything was closed tight.

You needed to tell her the truth. You ignored the small kernel of doubt inside you that said May would never believe you. You knew she would. But the aftermath of your confession would be heavy, even for someone emotionally strong as May. For days you had holed yourself up in your apartment, answering Tony's texts while he was in another country on business. You wished you could tell him but you were not sure how he would react. On the outside, you could understand how the news would be hard to take. Precious Peter Parker, patron saint to May and the neighborhood, always wanting to help had cornered you, broken into your home and had someone assault you.

Even if you had a first hand account, it still seemed unbelievable.

So you had cloistered yourself inside your apartment, relying on TV dinners and wine to get you through the week you had taken off of work. Poorly crafted lies that you spun into excuses as to why you wouldn't see May made you feel even worse. The stress had caused you to forgo your nightly routine, the signs that your hair needed to be colored once more apparent. But now, you were tired, fearful and trying to find a way to explain your situation to the two people in your life that would be able to help you.

When your name was called, you rose to your feet, trudging behind a nurse who directed you to a room. The sterile smell of a disinfected room, the sting of alcohol wafted in your nose while you tried to relax. The cast off your wrist meant freedom, the chance to finally use both hands.

You heard a voice before the door opened, the doctor smiling at you while they held a file in their hands.

"Ready to be free from your cast?"

You nodded, looking down at the doodles and markings. You turned your arm, eyes dropping down to a message that you hadn't noticed before.

_Even when this cast goes away, I'll still be here._

You recognized the writing, the doctor's instructions about how the cast was going to be removed only a hum in your ear until they touched your hand, making you jump.

"Everything okay?"

Pulling your eyes away from the writing, you attempted a smile, hoping that it was good enough to hide the fact you were internally screaming.

"How long will it take? Sorry," you fumbled, knowing that they had already explained it while you had been focusing on the message on your cast. "Just have a lot on my mind."

"Shouldn't take that long. Just relax. We'll have you out of here in no time."

🕷

A knock at your door put you on high alert as you dropped a tea bag into your cup. You inched toward the door, eyes shifting to the peep hole to find MJ standing outside, her thick wavy brown hair smoothed back nervously with a sweep of her hand.

When you opened the door, she shifted her bag over her thin shoulder.

"Sorry, I... can I come in?"

You opened the door wider, letting her pass before you closed it, locking it and watching her plop down on the couch. It had been ages since you had seen her, the last known time you had been around each other was May's birthday party. You'd been so excited to see them together, Peter's nervousness on display while he had placed an arm around her for a photo.

"I don't mean to bum rush you or anything. I didn't think you'd actually answer the door," MJ started, lowering her bag to the floor. "There's no real way to start this conversation so I'm gonna just come right out and ask. Are you and Peter seeing each other?"

Your horrified expression seemed to give her pause.

"No, MJ. Where would you get an idea like that?"

Your heart began to race at her assumption, MJ's eyes glassy with emotion, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hair tie on her wrist.

"He talks about you constantly. Pictures saved on his phone."

You balked at her comment.

"Pictures?"

"Every social media picture you post, he saves it. I've seen them."

MJ angrily wiped away a tear, trying to contain her emotions before she spoke again.

“He says it’s nothing. But I know better. He’s always been a bad liar, even with the innocent things. I’m sorry to bring you into this, I thought you knew.”

“No. I didn’t.” Your heartbeat fluttered at the thought.

“We were supposed to move in together and then it was never a good time. He’s been busy with work and then the internship. Or so I thought. And then I saw the pictures from his lunch with you and May. He told me he had work to do. He cancels plans with me all the time. I just wanted to know why and you always become the topic of conversation.”

“MJ, I promise you that nothing is going on. I’m sorry that this is happening to you but I swear that I don’t have any involvement with Peter, let alone talked to him. It’s been weeks since that lunch and I ended up leaving it early because it started to get a little inappropriate.”

At your words, MJ looked up questioningly.

“Inappropriate how? You knew about this?"

You were not prepared to tell her the story. In her emotional state, you did not want to risk having her confront Peter but you also needed to tell her the truth.

“He tries to flirt sometimes. I’m older, MJ, you know that. I’m interested in dating people a little older than Peter. A little more mature. I removed myself from it that day and I haven’t spoken to him since.” It wasn’t a lie, but you wished that you could have softened the blow of her face falling at your statement.

“Then it’s over,” MJ announced. “I can’t do this with him. It’s like an obsession. I know it isn’t your fault but I can’t live my life knowing that he has this weird issue with you.”

“I understand it,” you agreed with a short nod.

“Does May know?”

You hesitated at her question. You should tell May. This would be a perfect time to tell her. MJ would confirm it.

“Is there anything I can do? You couldn’t deny the awkwardness that was not hanging between you both; MJ’s mouth set into a frown.

“It all makes sense. He moved here to be closer to you. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. Have you told him it’s inappropriate? Crushing on an old woman.”

“MJ,” you chastised, your feelings raw at her reply. Even if it came from a place of anger and hurt, you were still human. And forty-five was not old.

“I’m sorry. I’m just… this was a bad idea to come. I didn’t mean it. I need to go,” MJ stammered, picking up her bag and getting off the couch. “This whole thing is nuts.”

She rushed out of your apartment before you had a chance to stop her, hearing the sad sob before the slam of the door.

You locked the door behind you, walking slowly over to the tea that had now gone cold. You poured it down the sink, staring out the window as your thoughts weaved and out of what the repercussions of your words would be.

The knock on the door put you on high alert again, waiting to hear if the person at the door would continue to try.

After the third knock, you reached the door, looking into the peephole to see Tony. With a sigh of relief, you rested your head on the door before you unlocked it.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, immediately noticing his stare. “Did something happen?”

“I need you to come with me.” Soulful brown eyes boring into your own.

“What?”

“I’m taking you out to lunch. My treat.”

You let out a sigh of relief, your body shaking as a tear slipped down your cheek. Immediately, his tone changed as you were pulled into his arms.

“Didn’t think you’d be that excited over a lunch date. What’s the matter, huh?”

“Nothing, it’s just nerves,” you lied, closing your eyes as you rested your head against his shoulder. “It’s been a rough day.”

“Yeah, about that. I want to take you out to lunch because it’s my turn to get you back for that dinner date and secondly, I think you need some updated security. Let my guys come in and take a look, maybe make some adjustments?”

“Like what?”

“Simple stuff. Surveillance, alarms. The usual. Standard things.”

You broke into a smile.

“Standard Stark upgrades.”

“Beautiful and smart. That’s two for two. You ready to go?”

“Sure.”

After what you had been through, you were grateful for a moment away from your apartment. He motioned for Happy to come forward, two men following behind him.

“Happy,” you greeted, his face uncomfortable as he crossed into the living room.

“Hey. You talked to May lately?”

“Not recently,” you confessed.

“Happy and his men are going to be here to check out the place. They’ll stay here until we get back.”

Oddly enough, that gave you comfort and you gave them a grateful nod before Tony guided you toward the stairs.

🕷

Truthfully, he had gotten you back for your dinner. Miniature golf and corn dogs, something you had done since you were a child.

“Here I am thinking you’re flawless and you absolutely suck at mini golf.”

“It’s been years!” you protested, heat creeping into your cheeks as you folded the small paper and tucked it into your pocket. “You really are good at everything, aren’t you?”

“Lots of time on my hands.”

He gave you a lingering look, his phone going off as he answered. You took his club and started toward the drop off area.

“Happy. What’s the word?”

You turned in the clubs, thanking the man behind the counter as Tony came up, the usual smirk replaced with a look of concern as he ran his hands down your shoulders.

“They’re still installing some cameras outside. You had an old system in place already, did you know that?”

“An old alarm system? No, I didn’t know that I had one.”

“Maybe it’s old, I don’t know. Happy didn’t give too much detail but it’s being removed.” His jaw clenched for a moment before he embraced you into a tight hug. He seemed upset.

“Why don’t I give you a tour of my place? Strictly innocent, I promise.”

“Now? I thought you had a packed schedule.”

He shook his head, his chin gently rubbing on top of your head.

“It’s cleared. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentioning his age to MJ... we all know how he feels about that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this yet but then I keep re-reading all your comments and then it makes me write faster so here, have another chapter.

Your forearms rested over the balcony's railing, overlooking the city that seemed to sparkle with light amid the blanket of darkness that night had brought. It was late, way past your usual time that you would go to bed and yet, you had pulled yourself from the couch that you had fallen asleep on, pulling the blanket around you as you opened the heavy sliding glass door to the sounds of the city that filled your ears.

More missed calls from May and unread text messages. You knew you needed to get home, even if Tony's hints at you staying over had not gone unnoticed. You were used to being independent, being on your own. The new security system had been installed without a hitch and you could go home.

And yet, you didn't want to.

It could all be simple, you thought to yourself, clutching the blanket closer to you as the cold air whipped around you. You could confront Peter for good, call the cops and explain everything to May. It seemed so easy in your head, mapping out your steps to the closure of this strange chapter in your life. Nothing would return back to normal. You knew that. Charges would be filed, relationships broken and bruised most likely beyond repair. The psychological torment was the worst of it. You were constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure he wasn't behind you.

In this tower, you felt safe. It was more than the reinforced steel, the friendly AI that had introduced itself as Friday and the fact that there were back up systems to back up systems for added security. Tony had built a security blanket around the city without you ever knowing. More importantly, you understood he was trying to do that with you. New phone, new security system. Maybe this was the way he was able to express the way he cared about others besides cracking jokes and giving you that devilish smirk that made you weak at the knees like you were a teenager all over again.

"Can't sleep?" Tony's voice called out from the door.

You nodded, looking back in his direction for a moment as he started to come toward you. You wanted to keep looking at the city, the lights and the cars below, inching along the busy street like ants.

"I should head home." You did not sound convincing in the slightest.

"You could. Or hear me out, you could stay here."

Suddenly you remembered Peter's words at the restaurant, his comment about the parade of women coming and going from Tony's office. It would be on brand for him. You certainly weren't naive to it. He was an adult, much like you were and he was allowed to do what he wanted. The little voice in your head flicked on, making you wonder if you would be another number to add to his collection, a thought that made you frown in disappointment. You didn't have time to worry about things like that. You were mature enough to make your own decisions and you weren't going to be swayed by Peter's comment. Even if it did hold a kernel of truth.

"You ever gonna tell me what's eating you?" Tony asked, standing behind you as he placed his hands on your blanketed shoulders. "Did I freak you out over the alarm system?"

"No, no, God, no," you assured quickly. "It's not that. It's just been a weird... month. Months? Haven't really been sleeping as much as I used to. Not since the attack."

His hands massaged your shoulders gently, both of you lost in thought for a moment.

"Do you think it was fluke? Like a random break in?"

You had hoped so. Until Peter had told you otherwise.

"I want to think so," you responded quietly, leaving room for interpretation.

"But you aren't convinced," Tony hinted, his hands moving to your back, the pressure of his fingers on your back making you sigh in pleasure.

"I can't be sure. I've never had any issues before but it didn't feel like a normal break in."

The massage stops at your reply, Tony's hands falling to his sides.

"What if I told you that it wasn't?"

The weight of his question makes you stop breathing. He says your name twice before you realize he's still talking to you.

"You with me?"

"Yes," you answered, the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

"I had Happy pull the tapes. There were cameras in your apartment. Not just the ones at the door. Your bedroom, your bathroom. Small enough to be hidden but my guys found them all. Maybe it was the person before you that had it installed but it was pretty top tier. All in places that they shouldn't be. Purposeful angles."

His words sliced through you and you held onto the railing, still trying to focus on him speaking while you watched the cars below.

"The video has a man coming into your apartment. He let himself in. Did you ever give your key to anyone?"

"No," you denied, feeling your voice get thick with emotion. You needed to breathe. "Never."

"Didn't think so. Is there anyone that you know that would hold a grudge or want to harm you?"

You had an answer on the tip of your tongue. All you needed to do was say the words.

But would he believe you?

"I don't know." Your voice hitched with emotion, unsure of how strong you could continue being as your thoughts began to spiral. This meant that Peter had a key and that he had let them in.

He'd actively had participated in your assault.

"What else does the tape show?"

"It doesn't matter," Tony replied fiercely. "We're fixing it so that what happened to you won't ever happen again."

🕷

You would never admit to yourself but you slept like a baby that night, buried in a sea of soft sheets and blankets as your head rested on Tony's chest. The nightmares of the incident didn't come to fruition and you woke up to find yourself alone, Friday cheerfully greeting you as you jumped.

"Mr. Stark has gone out for a run. Would you like me to alert him that you're awake?"

"Oh, no thank you, Friday. I was going to get up and maybe go get a bagel or something," you said to the room, still unsure of where Friday was located. Maybe she was everywhere.

"Of course. There's a bagel shop down the street, approximately a half mile from the Tower. Would you like me to have them deliver it?"

Swinging your legs over the giant bed, you stretched, covering your mouth as you yawned.

"No thank you. I can get it."

"Mr. Stark would prefer if you stayed here until he got back," Friday commented. "I would be more than happy to call the shop to have them deliver for you."

You hesitated, waiting to ask your next question.

"Friday? Am I being held against my will?" You waited for the answer, pulling on your shoes and searching the room for your purse.

"No, Miss. Mr. Stark only believes it would be beneficial if you stayed here until he returned."

You didn't like being told what to do and you finished tying your shoes, snatching up your purse.

"Then he won't mind if I get some fresh air and come back in a few minutes."

Friday was silent for a moment as you walked down the hallway and opened the door. You wouldn't be gone long. You'd already mapped out your walk and you needed to clear your head from the news the night prior.

"As you wish. I will inform Mr. Stark you are leaving."

"It's only for a little. I don't think we need to bother him, do we?"

"I am to alert him when you come and go."

With a roll of your eyes, you opened the door, heading toward the elevator as you checked your watch. You'd be back in enough time that you could probably beat Tony home. You'd worry about the time later.

🕷

You clutched the bag of bagels in your arm as you turned to leave the shop, a familiar face looking back at you. A baseball cap was pulled down low over Peter's brow, a thin smile on his lips as you held the bag tighter.

"Everything okay?" he asked you, seemingly blocking your exit. "I haven't seen you at Aunt May's."

"Just been busy," you lied, trying to skirt around him as he followed your every step, moving into your step.

"You wouldn't be avoiding her, would you? She's your best friend, right? Friends don't do that to each other. She was worried about your wrist and how it was healing."

You remembered his dark promise of breaking the other one and you chewed the inside of your cheek to keep your emotions inside.

"I'm going to talk to her. Like I said, I've just been busy lately."

Peter raised an eyebrow at your lie. It was obvious that he did not buy a word you were saying.

"Aunt May said you took a week off. Haven't really seen you around the building, either."

"Are you looking for me? After what you told me?" You'd gotten a burst of anger that felt good to finally roll from your lips.

"What did I say?"

The people milling around the store kept you quiet and you took a step toward the door.

"Move, Peter," you demanded, knowing that it had already been much later than you expected due to finding him in your way. Something told you that this was no coincidence.

"Not until we talk about MJ."

You shook your head, pushing past him and opening the door, trying your best to walk as fast as you could. You heard your name being called and you picked up the pace, running down a busy street as you pulled out your phone. You just needed to tell Tony before Peter reached you.

The phone was pulled from your hand as you were hauled up against a wall in an alleyway, Peter's hands pinning you back against the brick that pressed into your thin jacket.

"Peter, stop," you protested, the bag dropping to the ground.

"What did you tell MJ? She won't speak to me, won't take my calls. She's blocked me on everything."

"I don't know," you shot back, struggling against him as his hand circled around your wrists, applying pressure. The tender wrist began to throb under his hand and you winced. "Peter, stop, please."

"She doesn't understand, you know," Peter admitted, his voice hard and determined but you saw the beginnings of tears in his eyes. "She thinks I don't know that she snoops through my phone. I know she does. I know she visited you that day. What did you talk about?"

"She's upset that you don't pay her enough attention," you blurted out, gasping at the pain. "Please... it hurts."

"Then you know the pain you put me through. The pain you're putting Aunt May through. This is a fraction of what I feel. I could make it so much worse. And I'm not even the worst of it. Tony'll hurt you worse."

You stopped trying to struggle when you realized it was pointless. A tear slid down your cheek and Peter leaned forward, brushing it away quickly.

"I know you mentioned my age to her. She doesn't understand why I'm drawn to you. You refuse to look past the age difference. Maybe I'll have to show you," Peter said darkly, letting you go as he picked up the bag and placed it in your arms. "When I'm ready to show you, you'll understand. But I want you to stay away from MJ. She's not good for you. Girls like her are nothing but trouble. They have to grow up. Mature. And if you tell Tony about this, then I'll have to show MJ what I mean about staying out of my business."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *moonwalks in*
> 
> You guys, I'm supposed to be working on my other fics but you make it so easy to come back and give you another chapter, sigh. I'm such a sucker for you all. Thank you so much for reading this far.
> 
> Sooo, I think I've stated several times that this is a dark fic and I've been largely tap dancing around the more darker parts because I don't want people to get triggered but we are now wading into the darker parts of this story. I've updated the tags with as much information as I could as we move onto this next chapter.
> 
> There is violence and non-con in this chapter. When we swim in the dark territory, we dive deep.

Time no longer mattered. The bag of bagels still clutched in your grip as the taxi maneuvered through the heavy traffic, your phone broken beyond repair as the shards of glasses splintered like a web.

The car had barely pulled off to the curb before you thrust a handful of bills in the driver's direction, not caring if you overpaid. You were out of breath, mind still reeling from what had transpired moments prior. How had Peter known where you were? Your wrist was still sore, the bag nearly in tatters as you climbed the steps up to the entrance of her apartment, looking around to make sure no one was following you. Not that it mattered. It appeared you didn't need to see him. He just needed to see you.

Walking down the familiar hallway, you wiped your tears, trying to maintain your composure before you knocked on the door, straining to hear if you could make out her footsteps.

The door opened wide, May's eyes wide in surprise as she uttered your name before she pulled you inside, the door closing behind you both as she threw her arms around you.

"Oh my god, are you okay? What's wrong?" Her words were muffled against you, her own tears dripping on your skin. "You're shaking. Tell me."

"M-May," you started, the bag dropping to the ground. "I can't."

She guided you to the couch, not letting you go as you felt her hands rub your back gently. Your head pounded with stress, the feeling of being watched the entire time too much to handle.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me."

You lifted your head, tears continuing to build in your eyes that matched her own. How on earth would you be able to tell her what you endured? What he had done? There would be no easy way to explain what had happened.

"Peter," you began, May's eyes widening at his name.

"What happened to him? Is he hurt? He left here a few hours ago, something about talking to MJ. Tell me. Is everything okay?"

"Peter hurt _me_ ," you managed before you broke into a sob, your chest burning with the exhaustion of keeping it inside. "He bought me lingerie, May. He broke into my apartment and he..."

You covered your face with your hands at May's broken expression, her hand covering her mouth as she shook her head.

"Oh God. This can't be happening," May murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "What did he do?"

You didn't want to break her any more than he had done to you. May still had not left your side, your shortened breaths mingling in the silence.

"Paint night, I was drunk and he was there and he... I know I didn't dream it. He showed me pictures of when he broke in. He's been filming me in my apartment... he knows who broke my wrist."

May grabbed your hands, trying to inhale a deep breath.

"Stop, stop. Listen to me. Did you tell anyone?"

You shook your head. It didn't seem real, even as you spoke the words.

"We need to call the police. Oh my god! Peter, I can't... I didn't know," May sobbed, breaking down as her long hair blanketed over her face. "I thought it was a little crush. Just harmless. I'm so sorry."

You froze at May's comment, your hands sliding down your face.

"You said he was going to find MJ?"

"They got into a fight and he wanted to smooth things over. What?" May asked as you got up from the couch. "Did he hurt her too?"

You reached for the phone, the key in the lock sounding the alarm as you both stared at the door, the knob twisting as you put down the phone. Deep down, you knew this was no coincidence.

Peter entered, his hat still slung low on his brow as he looked right at May.

"May? Is everything okay? What's the matter?"

He made it to her side quickly, the door still open with enough clearance to let you pass. He hadn't seen you yet, May's hand over her chest as she looked at the floor.

"Aunt May, what's wrong?"

She shifted her eyes up, just enough to look at the open door to give you a sign to leave. You shook your head, still frozen in place. There was your chance, a path to flee and get to safety to call the police and Tony. But you couldn't leave her. She hadn't brushed off your words, instead appealing for you to call for help.

"Whatever it is, it's okay, I'm here," Peter soothed, his arms pulling her into a hug as she shuddered.

"Go," she mouthed to you, her trembling fingers touching Peter's sweatshirt.

You inched toward the door, Peter's gaze at the floor, where the bag had fallen. You heard your name, Peter's head lifting to look at his Aunt.

"She came here, May? Where is she?"

"Only for a bit," May lied, your feet still moving quickly toward the door as you watched Peter's back.

As your hand reached the door, a thick web covered your hand against the knob, slamming the door closed. Peter looked back at you, disappointment on his face.

"Aunt May, you taught me never to lie, remember?" he asked with a sigh, letting her go as you fought against the web that did not budge, no matter how much you struggled. "I felt her the minute I came in here."

"Let me go, Peter," you demanded, your voice shaky. "This isn't about May."

"You're right," he agreed, standing nose to nose with you. "This is about you. It's always been about you."

"Peter what are you doing?! You have to let her go. This isn't you, Pete. This isn't the Peter that I know," May begged, getting up from the couch to advance toward him. "Just listen to me. This isn't you."

You pulled away from his touch against your cheek, still trying to fight the substance on your hand.

"Let me fucking go. I know about the alarm system."

Peter shook his head, his lips pursing for a moment before he looked back at May.

"It was there to keep you safe."

You saw red.

"Bullshit. Cameras in my bathroom? That's sick."

"Was it?" Peter asked you darkly. "How often did you almost fall in that shoe box of a place? Your landlord doesn't give a shit about the upkeep. It's always been about keeping you safe."

"You can't control me," you spat, May still in tears behind you as she picked up the phone.

Another web shot from his wrist, the phone stuck to the wall as Peter headed straight for May as you shouted for him to stop.

May was stronger than you realized, her arms pushing against Peter's chest as he tried to explain his reasons for watching you, his expression that had changed from sadness to anger when she denied that he was justified in his actions. More pushing and shoving until his anger got the better of him as she tried to tackle him. He did not understand his own strength, pushing her out of the way as she hit the wall, collapsing as he sunk to his knees amid your scream for help.

"Aunt May?" he whispered, lifting her into his arms. "Aunt May, I'm sorry."

You could tell she was still breathing, her chest rising and falling as Peter glared at you through glassy eyes.

"You did this. I tried so hard to be kind, to make you understand that this is where you need to be. I'm always gonna keep you safe but you went too far. You," Peter trailed off, brushing back May's hair. "You hurt her feelings and then tried to come back for sympathy. That's why she's so on edge. This is your fault."

He placed her onto the couch, looking at her for a moment as he angrily wiped away a tear.

"You have to understand that I can't allow you to hurt May. You've tried to hurt me, too but I understand it. You're afraid."

"No, I'm not afraid. Peter, we need to get her help."

"I will once I get you somewhere safe."

"No! Peter, you can't!" Your control was slipping, tears streaming down your face as he headed back toward you, his hands at your throat as he applied pressure, your free hand trying to claw him away.

"Just enough to help you sleep," he soothed.

🕷

You coughed, your throat aching with pain as you tried to swallow, your eyes attempting to adjust to the darkness. The ground was cold, your palms like ice against the floor as you stretched out your hands, trying to feel around for anything to give you a hint of where you were. Your thoughts went to May and you hoped Peter had made good on his promise to get her help. You knew that he would have. But you were just as certain that help would not be coming for you. The effort to find your voice was agonizing, the dryness of your throat amid the pain of how he had choked you made you cough harder. 

"Peter?" you whispered, your voice small with fear.

"I'm here," he answered, somewhere in the dark. "Waiting for you to wake up."

At the sound of his voice, defeat flooded your body.

"Peter, please," you pleaded. "I won't tell anyone what you've done."

The twist of a cap caught your attention and your chin was lifted, the rim of a bottle at your lips.

"Drink," he ordered. "You must be thirsty."

You complied, the water snaking down your dry throat as you drank, the bottle lifting with every single gulp that you took. The droplets that leaked from your mouth were brushed away by his fingers as you inhaled a deep breath.

"Is that better?" His voice held a hint of caring. "I don't want you to get dehydrated."

You refused to answer, attempting to get up before he pushed you back down onto your knees.

"Did you know it was me? That night in your apartment after your paint and wine with Aunt May?"

You choked out a sob at his question. You didn't want to relive it, the way your body had responded to him. You'd known it was him once you had started to piece together that night.

"You did," Peter agreed to himself. "I wanna do it again. It made you feel good, right?"

"No," you denied with a sharp inhale. "It was wrong."

"You and I are never wrong." His voice was louder now, angry at your rebuttal. "You just don't want to accept that this is right."

He pressed you backwards, your back onto the ground as you heard the familiar shot of the web that bound your hands together. Caught in a web once again.

"Please," you begged, his fingers pulling down your leggings gently. "Peter, please don't do this."

"You say that now but I remember that night. Those sounds you made. I did that, didn't I?

Cold air reached your thighs as your underwear came next, Peter hushing your tears as you felt his lips against your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the junction of your core.

At the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe up your slit, you shuttered out a breath, his attention lavishing your bundle of nerves as you squeezed your eyes shut. You heard his small laugh before his mouth caressed your folds. Ever so often he would stop, pressing a kiss to your thigh as you tried to breathe. Like a lover would. 

"There you are," Peter praised you quietly, lapping at your cunt as you whined in response. "I told you I'd make you feel good."

His tongue rubbed against your clit over and over as his fingers slipped inside you, the tempo of both sensations rocking you to the edge. You cursed your body for going against your mind, stuttered breaths escaping your parted lips as you tried to stop the inevitable from happening.

"Just let go," he urged. "Let me have it."

With a cry, you shattered, eyes rolling back against the darkness as a warm washcloth cleaned you gently.

"Good start to our future," Peter remarked, a click of a switchblade garnering your attention as he cut through the thick material. "You need your rest. Mr. Stark is looking for you and we gotta move first thing in the morning."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexa, play Garbage's "#1 Crush".

The outline of Peter's frame was the first thing you saw when you came to. Your head hurt, your eyes still puffy and aching as you tried to move, your legs sore from how they had been spread earlier. At the rustling of the sheets, Peter turned around, giving you a sympathetic smile. Dark circles were under his eyes as he came toward you.

"Aunt May is okay," he informed you quietly, sitting on the bed as you froze. "Just a little bump on the head. I thought worse had happened. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her."

You tried to find your voice, the fear still thick in your belly as the words mumbled against your lips. Peter slapped his hand to his head.

"Oh jeez, I forgot you need water," he admonished to himself, getting up and leaving you alone as your head throbbed with pain. your movements were slow and you knew that you had been drugged.

You tried to pull yourself up, arms shaky and feeling like lead as you tumbled halfway off and onto the floor, head still pounding as the door opened.

"Hey," Peter stammered, the glass of water placed on the stand as he helped you back up on the bed. "You gotta be more careful. You could hurt yourself."

"P...Peter..." you attempted, your tongue heavy in your mouth. "Peter."

He raked a hand through his hair, propping you up on the pillows as he held up the glass of water to your lips.

"I misjudged the medication. I'm sorry," he whispered. "Gave you too much. You needed your rest."

The water spilled down your parted lips and down your chin as you tried to reach for the glass, Peter holding it away from you as he wiped your mouth carefully.

"You gotta let it ease out of your system. You'll be okay. I haven't slept since I moved you. Mr. Stark's been calling your phone like crazy. Does he know about us?"

Us.

It was struggle to keep your eyes open, your throat still dry and your body still aching. Your mouth worked slowly, trying to form letters into words so you could speak. Peter held up your cracked phone, Tony's name lighting up on the caller ID through the broken glass.

"I removed the tracker," Peter stated, still looking at the phone. "Did you know he was tracking you? I knew Mr. Stark was a wiz with his technology but I didn't know he tracked people. Not cool."

Removing the tracker meant that you would never be found. Your eyes filled with tears, burning as you shook your head, your small cry of anguish alerting Peter as he dropped the phone on the bed and held you in his arms.

"I didn't meant to make you upset. It's just, I told you, Mr. Stark isn't good for you," he insisted gently. "But you didn't answer me. Did you tell him about me?"

You shook your head slowly, Peter's arms tightening around you.

"Do you swear you didn't say anything? Because he was acting really funny when I saw him last. Didn't really wanna talk to me."

"I promise," you whispered against him.

He let out a sigh, cupping your face in his hands. Another loving gesture if he hadn't abducted you, hurt May and refused to let you go.

"I want to see Aunt May but I can't. Not yet, anyway. I bet she won't want to see me." He let you go, chewing on his lip. "I messed things up. I was so careful."

"She loves you," you managed to finally say, your voice still cracking. "Despite what you've done."

"She just doesn't understand," Peter responded. "I've always had a crush on you."

You looked away at his solemn statement, eye searching for a way out once you got your strength back. When you cleared your throat, he brought the water to your lips once more and you took three big gulps.

"You see older men and younger women all the time. Why is it such a big deal when it's the other way around?" he asked with a scoff and shake of his head. "Double standards. Age has nothing to do with it. I'm an adult. I know what I like. What I want."

He held your wrist as he examined it.

"It's healed nicely," he remarked, kissing the inside of your wrist softly. "I didn't want to hurt you. I told him to go easy on you but that's the problem. People always get carried away around you. They go too far. And then sometimes, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man isn't so friendly. An eye for an eye," Peter remarked with a smirk as he remembered. "I broke both of his wrists in response."

Your phone vibrated again, Peter's irritation rising as he looked down at it.

"He's relentless. I wanna answer and tell him where you are but Mr. Stark is good. Too good. What does he think is going to happen if he found you? That I would let you go? He doesn't know how to date women, let alone understand them."

The battery was close to dying as he placed it on the nightstand. You had no idea where you were, your mind still clouded while he paced, pulling out his phone ever so often before he stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans before he leaned down to kiss your forehead, your movements still sluggish as you moved your head.

"I'm gonna go see Aunt May. Judging by how dilated your pupils are, the medication won't wear off for another few hours. I'm gonna keep my distance, don't worry. I'll give you a full report when I get back," he said, opening the door before he looked back at you. "Don't try to run away. This place is rigged to make sure you stay safe, okay? I don't want you to trip any of the surprises in case Mr. Stark decided to drop by."

🕷

When you woke up again, you stretched your fingers and toes, testing out your strength to make sure you had enough dexterity to move. It was silent, your eyes sweeping from each corner of the room as you sought out any hint of what would befall you if you left the bed. The walls looked clean, no sign of anything that you could see as you lifted the blankets over your body. you didn't put it past Peter to have something waiting, even if it was for Tony and not for you. Sliding your leg down until your toes touched the floor, you waited, holding your breath to see if anything would happen.

You placed your other leg down and sat up, looking at the floorboards for anything that looked out of place. As you stood up, your legs wobbled underneath you, causing you to fall onto your hands and knees as a loud buzzing sound cut through the shock of your fall as a light blinked under the bed. You leaned down to come face to face with a mechanical spider crawling toward you as you let out a cry and rolled to your feet, running toward the door as it slithered from under the bed and floated upward.

"Target acquired," the spider's artificial intelligence responded. "Commencing scan."

A red line scanned down from the top of your head to your toes, the intricate machine buzzing quietly. The spider spoke your name, another scan following.

"No threat detected."

You tried the door but it was no use and you pounded on it angrily as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Increased levels in the bilateral inferior and orbitofrontal cortex," the robotic voice chimed. "Calling Peter Parker."

"No!" you shouted, your voice hoarse as you tried to swipe at the machine as it moved out of your grasp.

"Everything okay?" Peter's voice filtered through the spider. "Are you hurt?"

"N-no," you answered. "I fell out bed."

"Are you okay? I can come back. Just checking on Aunt May. She's up and walking around."

"I'm okay. Take-take your time," you answered, your eyes on the spider. "I'm going to lay down."

"Good idea."

As you lowered yourself back onto the bed, the spider followed, hovering over you as you watched in fear.

"Pretty neat, huh? It's my Spider-Drone. It's connected to my suit. It'll keep you safe until I get back."

🕷

The door opened as your eyes were still stuck on the spider above you. Every time you moved, it moved. You didn't want to know what would happen if you tried to get up again. Even if you weren't a threat, you were sure that if it called Peter again, he could have it cause some sort of injury. With a few clicks on his watch, the spider lowered itself to the ground, crawling back under the bed as he sat near your feet. He looked more relaxed, happier in a way.

"She looks good," Peter affirmed with a short nod. "Her head's bandaged still but she was walking and talking. I wish I could have hugged her but I can't yet. I need her to understand why I did what I had to do."

You glared at him, still afraid but relieved to hear that May was going to be alright.

"You didn't have to do this," you began, watching his expression change. "You could have let me go. Then May wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"She wouldn't have understood. Even now, she won't understand. Not until you understand it and then we can talk to her together. She trusts you to make good decisions. This has to come from the both of us."

"I don't want this, Peter!" you shouted angrily, wiping your tears that continued to fall. "Let me go. This isn't practical. I don't want you."

His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward between your legs.

"You don't want me? You liked what I did to you yesterday. And before that. I made you feel good. You made those sounds because of me."

You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Stop it," you ordered, Peter's hands on your legs as he pulled you down.

"I don't have to make you feel good. I can make myself feel good instead. Would you like that?"

He pinned your arms over your head, his legs straddling your waist as he peered down at you.

"I've been so generous, you know? Making sure you sleep well and I like tasting you. I could make you taste me instead. How about that?"

You shook your head as he pressed down on you, kissing your temple as you let out a cry.

"I could be selfish but that's not who I am. Would a selfish person go see his Aunt in the hospital? Would a selfish person keep you safe? Away from Mr. Stark who would only break your heart? I don't think so. I've been gracious. You haven't even said thank you."

He bent back your uninjured wrist slightly.

"I think you owe me that at least."

As pin pricks of pain began as he applied pressure, you gasped at the discomfort.

"Thank you!" you cried out, Peter's head nodding in agreement. He leaned down to kiss you softly.

"See? You're learning already."

His head snapped up as he looked at his watch, his body seizing above you. He rolled off of you and headed toward the door.

"Shit. I meant to check on MJ. Spider-Drone, Sentry mode."


	12. Chapter 12

At times Peter wished he could live two lives, separate from himself. Maybe three, just to observe the choices he made in his life.

One that he had always thought would remain a constant was MJ. His nervousness knew no bounds when it came to her. Quirky and weird in ways that only he could truly appreciate, he had let himself think about their future. How he would propose, the season they would get married and giving their children off the wall names. Peter had given it a lot of thought once upon a time. Before the arguments started over their conflicting schedules. MJ was still trying to prove herself - a product of her young age and need to show she was valuable - both of them driving a wedge in their relationship. Perhaps that was why Peter had been so interested in you. You were established and tenured at your job, never needing to prove your worth because you'd learned who you were inside this body that had carried you over four decades. If anything, the world needed to prove it's worth to you, Peter reasoned.

When he removed the gag from MJ's mouth, there was no more screaming, no litany of swear words at the fact he'd bound her up and left her in his small apartment.

"You could let me go," MJ reminded him, her voice flat. "You can stalk her to your heart's content."

You were so much more than the other woman in his relationship. A support system, coupled with Aunt May that was unbreakable.

"I don't have to stalk her, MJ. I already have her."

MJ pulled away from his grasp at the reply. The top of her lip trembled as she forced a smile. What a fool she'd been to think that she could have talked sense into him. He was flawed beyond measure. Oddly enough, that was the reason why she had been drawn to him. The energetic, charismatic Peter Parker with a heart of gold who wanted to make everyone happy. Until she realized that there was only one person he wanted to make happy.

Himself.

"What's your plan, Peter?" MJ asked bitterly, allowing him to guide the straw into her mouth as she sipped her water. "Marriage? It can't be kids."

Peter's eyes darkened as he gripped her chin, a painful gasp erupting from her lips.

"You know I don't like when you talk about her like that," Peter admonished, shaking her chin from side to side. "Women are still having kids well into their fifties. I did some research."

MJ looked beyond him as she nodded in agreement, her eyes finally raising to look at him. "And where does Aunt May factor into all of this? Does she know you've stolen her best friend?"

Peter placed the water bottle on the counter, inhaling deeply at MJ's determined stare. This was not what he wanted. The arguing, treading sand instead of water, sinking deeper into their frustrations without

"Aunt May will come around eventually. I don't expect anyone to understand what we have except the two of us."

"Because you have so much in common," MJ supplied. "I don't even want to look at you anymore. Just fucking untie me so I can go."

Peter sunk to his knees, his hands finding the sides of MJ's face as she thrashed against him, tears running down her face.

"We were supposed to grow old together, Peter," she said in a hushed whisper. "Become those people who commute to work together, argue about the gentrification of our buildings, and walk our kids to school. We planned it all out. I would have waited for you."

"I...I still want that, MJ," Peter said quietly, looking at her bound hands that sat in her lap. "I wish I could have both. I know I can't but it still guts me to want it."

"Let me go," MJ said, her voice devoid of emotion. "You have to let her go too."

"I can't do that."

He underestimated MJ's strength. Her head crashed against his with such a force that he fell backward and into the side of the wall. Stunned, he watched as she used her strength to topple to the ground as she kicked her legs enough to loosen the rope. He got to his feet, her knee connecting with his chest as he let out a cry of pain.

"MJ, stop!" his voice tinged with a wheeze as he sucked in the air, still curled over onto his side. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You already did," she answered, getting to her feet as she slammed the chair against the wall as it broke.

"MJ!"

She flexed her wrists at the web around her hands, pushing out her chest as she glared at him.

"What Peter? You gonna keep me in here forever? Kill me?"

"No. No, I would never do that. I just, fuck," Peter hissed, tapping the small buttons on his bracelet as he cornered her. "You can't leave yet. If I let you go, you'll talk. I know you'll promise that you won't but you promised you wouldn't go through my things and we saw how well that played out."

With a flick of his wrist, more web shot at her feet, sticking her to the wall as another blast hit against her chest, spreading over her shoulders to the wall.

"I need to figure this out. So much happening. I shouldn't have... it doesn't matter. I'll make it work."

"You need help, Peter. Let us both go, get the help you need and things will be fine. May will help you, she'll make sure-"

"Just, shut up, okay?" Peter pleaded, walking around in a circle as he pulled on his hair. "Aunt May was hurt because of this. All of this. I gotta balance it out. You need to stay here a little longer."

"No," MJ argued back, struggling hard against the heavy strands. "You messed up. You can't watch over all three of us at the same time."

"You don't know that. I'll make it work. For now, you have to stay here. I'll be back."

"Peter!" MJ screamed, her voice rising higher with every inhale. "Let me go!"

🕷

"Friday, run diagnostics."

"High levels of benzodiazepines. Low heart rate," Friday confirmed, your eyes still watching the crushed spider-drone in the corner.

Warm, calloused fingers caressed your cheeks as your face was gently guided back to a familiar face.

"You with me? You gotta give me something, okay? An answer, a nod," Tony requested, his voice wavering as he tried to smile.

His expression broke you out of your stupor, lungs inhaling with air as you nodded before the tears began. The hold on you had on his neck was right, your body crushed against the suit of iron he wore.

"He's coming back," you whispered quickly. "He'll know I'm gone and he's-"

"Shh," Tony soothed, his hand moving up and down your back as he lifted you. "It doesn't matter. Why didn't you stay put, huh? Jarvis said you left. It was there for your own good."

You didn't dare look down as the thrusters kicked in inside the suit, hoisting you up over the skyscrapers as you held onto him, the cold wind stinging the tears at your eyes.

"I wanted to surprise you." Your answer seemed so foolish now. So independent, so reliant on yourself that you hadn't stopped to think that you were ever in real danger. In your mind, the type of women who were taken wasn't anywhere near your age. Even with Peter's insistent crush, you'd never given it a second thought that you could be his sole object of affection. You'd built up this false sense of security that you were untouchable, far from the attention of those that would want to hurt and control. Almost invisible to the public once you reached a certain age.

You now knew that to be untrue, finding out in the most horrific way. The persona that you had curated, the person you had come to love, despite all your shortcomings that you were certain would be a disadvantage, someone had found you to be worth saving from yourself and others.

Even when you hadn't wanted them to.

If there was one shining light, it was Tony, proof that you couldn't judge a book by its cover. It had been freeing to walk away from him that night at dinner, knowing your self-worth was more than a nice dinner and a romp in the sheets with a billionaire. You'd always been aware of your strengths and self-confidence had taken a while to build up but when it did, you felt at peace. No amount of shapewear, fancy dinners, or even attention from men could take that away from you.

Once you were safely back at the top of Stark Tower, Tony placed you carefully back on the ground.

"How's the head?"

"Still dizzy," you answered, trying to stop the trembling that had taken hold. "Sleepy."

"Yeah, we can't let you sleep yet. I'll make us some coffee but I don't want you out of my sight, okay?" he asked, leading you inside as the door locked behind you.

"Do you think he's going to come?"

Tony nodded, a sigh escaping his lips as he looked out the window for a moment.

"Yeah. He'll come. I'll be ready for him."


	13. Chapter 13

A sedative put you right to sleep, safe within the confines of the tower while Tony waited for any sign of your attacker.

The anticipation of who it could be weighed heavy on his mind and heart. Truthfully, you weren’t seen as a usual target and for that, he was ravenous with finding out information, combing through hours of video and audio recordings. The tracker on your phone had only given him enough data to know that whoever had taken you had known that there was safety in high rise buildings. Most of them were condemned, safe from prying eyes and unassuming police. He paused through frame after frame to get a look at your attacker, the small bit of optimism that he had held onto fading fast. There was another hunch, one that Tony did not want to entertain. It was too ludicrous, too far-fetched to be true.

The suit he'd prepared had gone missing days prior before he was set to hand it over to Peter. He'd been careless with it, almost bragging that the suit was nearly indestructible - except to his own suit that was waiting to be activated at a moment's notice. Tony had always been proud of his work. It was how his father spoke, breathing confidence wherever he turned. The suit was supposed to be a birthday surprise and now it had been used as a weapon. The spider-drone had been his greatest work of art, now a piece of scrap metal that he had to dismantle so that he could start from scratch.

While you slept, deep in your dreams, Tony hovered. He'd always found some way to mess up any good in his life. He had parents who loved him, a mother who gently tried to remind him that the toll of a genius like his father was a burden that no one else could shoulder. It took a certain type of man to not let it warp the soul. She had always thought that he would follow in his father's footsteps and Tony knew he had, despite the painful years of never feeling that he could measure up to such a man whose last name was plastered in the history books. That burden, the desire to build things bigger and better, was a competition with a ghost that he could never best. In his search to be great, friendships and relationships fell by the wayside. Stane - arguably one of the lesser friendships in his life. Steve, someone who Tony had come to count on as a friend but withheld his curiosity of asking what his father was truly like. In many ways, he just didn't want to know.

Pepper. The sole love of his life that he'd banked on to always be there, regardless of how bad he fucked up - and he fucked up all the time. It was addictive, having women readily available at a moment's notice. Once the alcohol flowed, Tony had felt more invincible than he already was. When she left, bruised ego told him he didn't need anyone. Just himself. He wasn't redeemable, Pepper had said sadly, picking up the last of her things months ago.

He'd thought she was right. Until you.

Tony had always been drawn to strong women. The kind that didn't need him, the ones that were perfectly fine to have a night - maybe two - and go on about their business. You hadn't even let him get out an apology before you had left him standing at the restaurant so many weeks ago. You were confident in who you were and what you would allow in your life. It was maddening to know that you didn't need anyone and freeing that he didn't have to pull out all the stops to impress you.

Whoever had taken you had wanted you gone for a while. The tracker was barely a blip on the radar when Friday had announced that your phone had been turned on. He'd tried to get a hold of May but whoever had attacked you had gotten to her first. Happy had kept watch over her bedside, leaving Tony alone to figure out who would have done it. He'd keep searching. He'd made many enemies over the years. If they were trying to use you to get to him, he'd get to them first.

"Boss, Mr. Parker is here," Friday announced. "He's asking to speak with you."

🕷

Peter paced back and forth downstairs, his hands shoved inside his pockets as he chewed on his lip. He'd been expecting her to still be there when he had gotten back. Now she was gone and his prized Spider-Drone was missing. The suit that had had he taken had still been in development but it had worked fine when it was on. Knowing the Spider-Drone had gone missing instead of being harvested for parts, only one person was behind the disappearance.

Tony came down the stairs, eyeing Peter with a raised eyebrow as Peter halted his steps.

"Mr. Stark, hey," Peter called out with a shaky hand that he immediately shoved back into his jean pocket. "Sorry for the short notice."

"Hey kid," Tony greeted, once he made it down the final step, analyzing Peter from head to toe. "To what do I owe this house call?"

Peter sighed, hanging his head for a moment, the cuff on his other wrist shoved into the other pocket, ready to be activated within seconds. Though the suit was slightly damaged, it still worked.

"Did you hear about Aunt May?" Peter asked nervously, his head lifting to meet Tony's stare.

"Not all the details. A random attack, bump on the head, Happy says she's going to make a full recovery. I sent flowers. Is everything okay? You look a little jumpy. Moreso than usual."

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, nodding quickly. "It's been a weird time since I moved. Didn't expect that to happen to Aunt May. You didn't hear anything else, did you?"

"Why?" Tony peered at Peter as he asked his question. Peter shrugged while his eyes moved to the second and then the third floor of the penthouse. If Tony didn't know any better, it looked like Peter was searching for something.

Or someone.

"Aunt May's friend was with her when the attack happened, I heard. She's missing. I was wondering if you heard about it."

Tony circled Peter for a moment, stroking his goatee while he contemplated Peter's question. His gaze dropped to the outline of the bracelet in his pocket. It was probably a coincidence but Tony had a feeling it wasn't. There was no way Peter could be that obtuse to do such a thing.

"How do you know she's missing? Did you visit May?" Tony asked Peter, who swallowed hard at his inquiry.

"No, I mean yeah, she was... she was still out when I visited but I went to check on her friend because Aunt May said she had come over but there was no answer and I've tried to call her but she hasn't answered. I figured you might know where she is."

"Not a clue. If she did get attacked, she's probably safe and somewhere that isn't New York City. That would be twice in a row that she was assaulted. No one gets bad luck like that twice."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Just worried, you know? I know you and her had a thing a while back so I thought she may have come to talk to you or ask for help."

"Radio silence," Tony offered. "Sorry I can't be much of a help. Now it's my turn to ask you a question."

"S-sure, Mr. Stark, what's up?"

"That shiny new suit I was making? The prototype? It's gone missing."

Peter shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, a look of surprise playing upon his features. Tony cocked his head to the side, his glance going down to Peter's pocket.

"Geez, really? Do you know who would have wanted to take it? That's awful, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah, really awful. Do you want something to drink? Water? I've got the fancy stuff. I think it's Perrier? Or San Pelligrino, I don't know, Happy does all the shopping here. Can't keep up."

Peter shook his head, eyes still looking up at the second floor.

"What? See something up there you like?" Tony asked, following Peter's gaze.

"No, I just... I don't think I've ever been officially invited this far into the tower. It's nice, Mr. Stark. Really nice."

"I'm sorry about Aunt May's friend. Hopefully, she'll turn up. Last time I saw her, she seemed a little shaken from the break-in. Pretty crazy, seeing as she had all that surveillance built inside her house."

"Surveillance?" Peter seemed surprised at that fact. "She did? Did anything turn up? Aunt May mentioned you were helping her with a new system. I know they caught the guy."

"Hmm, yeah they did," Tony agreed, still pacing around Peter. "He didn't act alone. Video's a little blurry, still trying to process it but he wasn't by himself. He had help. I wish the video was clearer. Not that it matters that much, I guess. I'm still running some tests on the fabric from the sofa."

"Sofa?" Peter remarked, his voice raising an octave. "I thought they were finished with their investigation."

"They were. I'm not."

The awkward silence that filled the space between them made Peter nod quickly, looking for a quick exit.

"Uh, I think I should get going," Peter said finally, turning on his heel.

"What's the rush? You going to go out and find her yourself? Gonna go and get yourself another shiner while you're at it?"

Peter heaved out a deep breath, his back still turned to Tony.

"You saw that, huh? Just a little scuffle, nothing major. People like to mouth off. Try to bully. You know how it is."

"No, I was never bullied. Did you get them back?"

"No," Peter answered with a sigh. "Not worth it."

Peter's cell went off and he scrambled to silence it, Tony's eyes going straight to the bracelet.

"What's that?" Tony asked.

Peter silently cursed himself as he shook his head.

"I know how this looks," Peter began.

"Yeah, it looks like you stole my tech. Which would explain everything and nothing at the same time."

"Mr. Stark, I can explain."

"Friday? Lockdown the compound," Tony ordered, "Level Two."

"Commencing Level 2 lockdown," Friday responded, Tony's attention now hard set on Peter.

"You have five seconds before I blast that thing off your wrist."


End file.
